


Bondage

by Skandron



Category: Ninja Turtles, TMNT - Fandom, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, M/M, Oldschool, Traditional Setting, Turtlecest, tcest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:31:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1239823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skandron/pseuds/Skandron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a village is attacked, a slave is pulled into a whole new world of intrigue, politics and the arms of the one who saved him.<br/>Not a BDSM based story as the title may suggest.   In progress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A commissioned illustration from supertalented artist Witchash on tumblr! [Don & Raph](http://witchash.tumblr.com/post/76953744610/commission-for-skandron-its-their-samurai-tmnt-au)  
> 

The village seemed to groan under the weight of the invaders, the shrieks and desperate screams of the people ripping through the air between the columns of smoke and the sharp ring of swords.  Don found himself shaking as he pressed his chained hands to the bars of his small window, catching glimpses of the fight but not enough to tell him who was winning.  How often had he wished these people would be punished for their brutality?  How many times had he cursed them and ached for some kind of justice  but now, hearing their stricken cries of agony and terror, he felt his stomach heave in his belly as the blood drained from his face.  

 _Nobody deserves to die like this - slaughtered like animals._   

No matter what they had done to him, no matter what he had endured  this violence, all this death- Glass shattered close by and he jerked back at the sound of the front door caving in under the weight of many shoulders, his heart pounding as screams and snarls penetrated the thin walls.

He stared in frozen horror at the battered door of his small cell, locked as usual to keep him inside.  Trapped.  No way out.  Suddenly a woman was screaming and men were laughing, their voices dark and ugly and he knew as the screams turned to muffled shrieks that these men had found Ferona, the owner of the house and keeper of his collar key  and they were giving her a taste of her own medicine.  He turned and scrambled to his waste bucket, retching his horror as quietly as he could manage, though it was unlikely anyone would hear him over the sound of their fun.  

Minutes dragged into eternity as they played with her, passing her between them until her cries were nothing more than strangled moans of broken horror and Don's stomach was a cramped, empty knot, fear bitter in his mouth.  His hands trembled with the effort of covering his ears.

And then suddenly the mood changed.  

Don heard a new low snarl of fury and then suddenly men were the ones screaming, roaring angry words in the invaders flowing language only to be silenced with a suddenness that made his blood run cold.  Something shattered against the door to his room and Don flattened himself against the wall with a terrified cry, smothered his mouth with a shaking hand and knew it was already too late.  He had just given himself away.  A long terrifying minute later the cracked door was all but torn off the hinges as he pulled himself into the corner of the room, sagging on knees gone weak with cold fear.  Don would have liked to go to his death with his head held high but too many years under the whip had beaten the courage out of him.  Yet even he had a little pride left.  If he was going to die, it would be with some small measure of dignity, he would not beg or grovel.  He bowed his head waiting for whatever fate was to befall him, heart lurching drunkenly in his chest, terror boiling in his veins.

When nothing happened he opened his eyes and found himself staring at something that made his eyes widen.  A pair of bare, two-toed feet, green spattered red with blood.  His gaze travelled up, noting details that captivated and terrified.  First and foremost the one before him was a terrapin - but this terrapin wasn't a slave like the others he had seen - like himself.  This terrapin was tall, his skin a vibrant emerald green and every line of his body was strong, his movement graceful.  

A warrior. Samurai.  

 _Predator_ Don's mind whispered.  

He wore only a thigh length haori over his black hakama leaving his plastron bare, the scars of other battles etched there for all to see.  Blood had splattered the turtles neck - _fresh blood_ dripped a dark path down those pale yellow plates and sticky stains had marred fabric in places.  Don shuddered, tried to shrink away further and then found himself staring into the warrior's eyes, helpless to look away.  Golden and so full of fire he felt his breath catch in his throat.  

The intensity pinned him helplessly in place, the warrior's face was a beautiful, fierce mask.  Golden irises measured him quietly, saw _into him_ and then somehow softened though his expression gave nothing away.  The warrior sank slowly to one knee before Don, his weapons vanishing in the blink of an eye, allowing calloused hands to reach out and slowly grasp his own.  

 _Warm, so warm._   Don felt his eyes fill with tears and was finally able to look away, staring down at the hands grasping his own in confusion.  

'Chullu ma keyo?'  

Don looked up at the soft query.  Golden eyes were studying the shackles darkly but the touch on his skin was gentle .. so gentle.  

'Fakesh ryo.'  he snarled softly and Don flinched, trying to jerk his hands back and failing as dark fingers tightened firmly on his own.  

The warrior looked up again, hesitating at the clear fear on Don's face and then lifted his hand slowly.  Don flinched and froze, his heart in his mouth as those fingers ran lightly over the bruises down one side of his face.  Even that soft caress hurt because the beating was still so fresh - a memento of his master's fury at some small mistake.  The tears escaped to drip down his face as that careful touch traced the tender line of his jaw with a softness that seemed to reach all the way down into his starving soul.  Something within Don's chest quivered and swelled, cried out for that gentleness, desperately hungry for contact that wasn't rough or demanding or violent.  He swallowed a whimper, blinked back the humiliating tears and forced his gaze back down to his own dry knees.  The slave smothered that weak, trembling cry within with bleak logic.  Letting himself feel anything so deeply would only get him killed.   

The warrior made a low sound in his throat at Don's inner withdrawal and stood smoothly, pulling firmly on Don's arm until the olive turtle stood obediently, the chains of his shackles rattling as they tugged on the connecting ring around his neck.  

'Kayah ne.'  Don knew a command to follow when he heard one, and even if he'd misunderstood, the firm grip on his forearm towed him along as quickly as he could comfortably follow.

Don followed in a numb haze, stepping over Ferona's wide-eyed corpse, her fur and clothes torn in equal disarray.  He wondered distantly where the men who had done this to her had gone and saw only random smears of blood and broken furniture to show that the earlier fight had occurred.  They moved through puddles that squelched beneath his toes and made his spine go cold as ice.  Everything seemed to shift and extend into a distant haze, there was only the iron grip around his forearm, the solid presence at his side moving gracefully where he stumbled and the stench of war in his snout, making his stomach churn.  

They moved through the carnage and somehow emerged into tranquillity where he found himself passed over to others.  The warrior growled something low to a terrapin with bright blue eyes whose gaze shot to Don in startled shock and then nodded, replied in that same flowing language and hurried over to take Don's arm, tugging gently.

'Come with me,'  he coaxed quietly, wrapping a supportive hand around Don's bicep.

Don blinked at him and tried to obey, stumbling on legs that felt like lead weights.  
    
What had just happened?  The enemy wasn't going to kill him, that was clear.  At least not yet.  

'You can s-speak common?'  he tried to ask.

'Yep.  Though not many in the turtle clans do.  It's just us unlucky ones that were raised outside Terra.  You can call me, Mikey.'

The blue eyed turtle flashed him a small smile and drew him through the encampment quickly, working his way to a semicircle of larger tents set in a clearing around a large firepit.  He pushed Don inside the largest and urged him to sit.

Don did as he was bid and stared around.  The tent was plain but the furnishings were luxurious.  A large futon pallet lay at one end, layered with furs.  Paper lanterns cast a warm golden light on a rack of weapons, two wooden chests and a low table which sat on a thin woven rug large enough to cover half the grassy floor.

The blue eyed turtle hurried around preparing something until he returned with a cup steaming lightly and scenting of herbs.

'Drink it all if you can.'  he urged.  'Raph said you've got battle-shock.  This'll take the edge off and you look like you could use it.  There won't be anything to eat until the Clan Leader gets back from the clean-up out there.'

Battle shock?  So there was a name for this strange numb lethargy he felt and the way his hands wouldn't stop shaking?  He didn't understand the rest of it but he had learned early not to argue.  He picked up the cup and drank the contents as quickly as he dared, hoping his stomach wouldn't rebel.  It burned all the way down and he coughed and gasped, his eyes watering.  His caretaker thumped him on the shell with a sympathetic wince and then looked over Don's hands carefully.

He shook his head at the crusted cuffs.  In places the metal had cut into his skin and festered, leaving ridges of scarring and raw scrapes that had never been properly cleaned.  
    
'No wonder he was pissed.'  The turtle muttered.

'I don't understand.'  Don hesitated.  Mikey wore a small collar, but it was of fine-crafted metal with no rough edges or visible locking mechanism that he could see.  Just a symbol embossed into the metal.  He seemed well-fed and healthy and he wore good quality, soft clothes.  Plain Hakama and the traditional kimono that were common in the land.  'Are you a slave too?'  

Faintly haunted blue eyes met his before a wide smile hid the old pain.  'It's complicated.  I used to be  back before the Clan Leader found me.  And I still sort of am.'  his smile faded.  'But trust me when I tell you there's no place you'd rather be than here in this tent.  Nobody will hurt you here.'

Don clenched his fists weakly.  'The attack - why?'

Mikey rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.  'Politics.  We can talk about that later but for now, just take my word for it.  You're safe as long as you stay in this tent, but don't go wandering off on your own.'

Don nodded numbly, suddenly aware that he had nowhere else to go anyway.  His previous master was dead, wether these new ones would prove to be any better remained to be seen.  
Despite the smaller terrapins words it was best to expect nothing but what he had already received.  Only a fool would hope for better.

Mikey was studying the shift of emotions across his face.  

'So, what's your name?'

'Kaimu.'  he replied automatically, his eyes downcast.  The turtle in front of him flinched at the meaning behind the word. _Nothing._   Someone's sadistic sense of humour at play.  A more subtle cruelty than the bruises.  

'No... I mean your real name, the one you were born with.'  he coaxed.

Don froze.  His real name?  He had kept that for himself all these years  it was the one thing he owned that was his alone.  He shook his head tightly and kept his mouth firmly closed.  Let them make something up to suit themselves, they always did anyway.  

'I understand.  You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.'  The other told him gently.  

Don nodded faintly, relieved and then blinked against a wave of sleepiness, feeling suddenly heavy.  He wondered when he would be allowed to sleep  only to find he had already sagged down onto the thin rug and something soft was waiting for his head there.  The blue eyed terrapin gave him a slightly sad smile and patted his arm softly, the chains clinking.

'Just try to rest.  When Raph gets back he'll help get those chains off.  I think if I try and break them it'll just hurt you, but he can pick just about anything.'

'Raph?'  he managed to ask, his tongue feeling thick.

Mikey pulled a light fur from the bed and spread it over him, the softness enfolding and instantly warming.

'Raphael.  He's the one who pulled you out of there.'

'He's my new master?'  Don managed to slur, his eyes drooping.  

The terrapin snorted softly.  'Sort of.  For now.'  

Don's eyes sagged shut with the vague realisation that perhaps whatever had been in the cup was responsible for this bone-deep weariness  but he lacked the strength to care anymore.  The blanket smelled so good.  A faint musky spice that seeped into his senses, surrounded and soothed.  He slept.

* * *

Raphael fulfilled the rest of his duties on the field, gave his orders and sent a messenger to tell Leo where he would be, then made for his tent.  Terrapin warriors and Samurai stood and nodded respectfully as he passed, others scrambled to get out of his way.  Few from the war party had been injured since the townspeople lacked any kind of decent training.  The majority of victims had been civilians caught in the carnage when the invading force had been looking for the Hun Raiders that were supposed to be encamped there.  Raiders that had apparently slipped out during the night.  Always one step ahead, always slipping away just before the trap closed  it smelled like a spy and rankled until his blood seethed with frustration.  The day's events sat heavily on his shoulders, the lives he had taken clinging to him wherever the blood had dried on his skin.

Mikey had already brought a tub of warm water and left it just inside the tent flap but Raph's gaze was caught and held by the bundle lying on his tent floor wrapped in one of his furs.  He paused and let the flap fall shut before walking slowly to examine his find.  The terrapin he'd found in that horrid room was fast asleep and he crouched to gently pull the blanket back from the bruised face.  It had filled him with rage to realise the slave shaking in the corner was of the Terrapin clans.  Taken as a child maybe in one of the numerous raids that occurred under the scum Hun's direction.  It was a trade they had been trying to stamp out for years now and though there had been some success  there had also been many failures.

The turtle's skin was a dull olive when it should have been gleaming in health, his shell likewise neglected and scratched.  His body was streaked in old dirt and lined with thin scars that spoke of frequent punishments with the traditional sharpened cane switch - weapon of choice against helpless, unruly slaves.  Raph's teeth ground together as he studied the delicate features, gaunt, shadowed eyes and worst of all, his scent  slightly off in the way that spoke of an injured animal.  It left a clinging taint of bitterness on his tongue - an aftertaste of despair.  He had been too late to save the woman in the house from the illegal looting and rape that had occurred  but at least he had managed to do one thing in the course of the day that didn't involve the savage violence he was renowned for.  

He studied the cuff and collar chain harness before he let the blanket fall with a dark curse.  Latch locks were damn near impossible to get off without the right key which made them perfect slave restraints  - he could do it but it would take all his skill and tools he had not thought to bring with him on this mission.  He left the slave to sleep off the sleeping draught Mikey had given him and stripped to wash the blood away before Leo arrived.  There was going to be trouble before long, he could feel it.  

* * *

Don floated in warmth and slept.  Voices came and went.  The blue-eyed terrapin from earlier mixed with the deeper baritone and rough growl of the golden-eyed warrior, then later terse words and clipped tones and a snarl of vicious fury that made him open his eyes blearily.  He caught a glimpse of the dim tent  Raphael facing a terrapin of equal height as blue-eyes hovered in the background, anxiously.  Don let his eyes sag shut against that new piercing gaze and slipped back into sleep.

'That's him?'  Leonardo asked needlessly.

Raphael stood silently as Leo moved to kneel and pull back the soft fur revealing the thin terrapin slave his brother had pulled out of the town.  The Clan leader's mouth pressed itself into a thin line at what he saw and he carefully covered the olive turtle back up, his thoughts racing.

'Saki's men have already issued a challenge, Raph.'  he said as he stood.

His brother glanced at him, his eyes dangerous.   'They were breaking the codes of war, Leo.  You and I both know I coulda killed them for that, but I didn't.  I let those bastards walk away and all they had to do was bleed a little.  They've got no right to challenge.'

Leo glared at him.  'They're claiming that you're the one that was raping that woman, Raph.  They're saying they tried to stop you and you attacked them and then took one of the house slaves as your own.  They're demanding the slave in compensation for their injuries as legal battle loot.'

'What?!!'  Golden eyes ignited in rage.  'Are they out of their goddamn minds?  I'll find em' and make em' tell the truth!'  he snarled making for the tent flap.

Leo crossed the distance between them in three strides and gripped his brother's shoulder tightly.

'Don't waste your energy.  The claim is already formalised and I've spent the last hour speaking on your behalf, for all the good it did.  They have too many 'witnesses'.  You've given them the exact opportunity they needed to call one of us out.  We already have to watch our backs, the last thing we needed to give them was a legitimate right to kill one of us in combat!  This won't go away unless you give them something they want.'

Raphael shook him off.

'It ain't legitimate, it's based on a fucking lie and it doesn't matter.  I'm counter claiming.  I won't just hand him over, Leo.'  

Leo blinked in disbelief.  'But you've never claimed before.  Ever.  Why now?'  

The emerald turtle glowered past his brother, his chest still rising and falling in fury, but said only.  'You _know_ what the Oroku clan does to their slaves, bro.'

There was a long, tense silence as Leonardo followed his brother's fierce gaze to the sleeping slave tucked towards the back of the tent.  Yes, Raph knew better than most what the Oroku clan was capable of.  Their lies would force a confrontation and Raph would be at risk, but it worked both ways  and the Oroku clan had better pick someone who knew his brother's weaknesses well because this was already deeply personal.  

There was only one way to avoid a duel of claim.

'I could order you to give him to them.'  he said quietly.  Beside him Raphael tensed, his eyes defiant.  They stared at each other for a long charged moment, the challenge hanging in the air between them.  

'But I won't.'  He finished finally, sighing imperceptibly.  

Raph relaxed a fraction and snorted softly.  'They've been looking for a reason to call us out for a long time, Leo.  We can't let it stop us doin' what's right and protecting the ones that need it.'

Leonardo looked at him, his gaze hooded.  'I know, but it's my right as Clan Leader to shield my own and I can't protect you on this one.  Not even from the blatant lies.'  he stepped forward, his expression softening into concern and touched the emerald face gently, relieved when Raph relented and pressed gently into the touch.  

'You know I don't need protectin', Leo.  Not anymore.'  he rumbled quietly.

Leo tugged him in for a half-hug and snorted wryly.  'I'm not so sure about that, little brother, but one thing is for certain ...'  he slid a hand around the back of Raphael's neck and drew that forehead down to his own until their eyes were inches apart.  'You make sure they never want to challenge one of us again.'  he said softly.  His brother's eyes glittered darkly as he nodded in agreement.

'No regrets, Leo.'  Raph growled softly as he pulled back.

Leo smiled grimly in response.  'Don't get yourself killed tomorrow, Raph.  I love you too much not to go looking for revenge.'

'What about me?'  Mikey demanded suddenly, having kept himself in the background as the tension rose between the two brothers.  His blue eyes sparkled with mischief as they turned to look at him.  

Leo found a smile tugging at his mouth despite himself and saw Raphael roll his eyes as he turned to clean the sai still grimed with blood from the earlier battle.

'For you I'd challenge Saki himself.'  Leo told the blue eyed turtle with a predatory smile, moving with unconscious grace to lie on the piled furs and draw the leaf-green terrapin into his arms.

Raphael shook his head, amused despite the earlier tension and stood watch, his ears alert for the external camp sounds as his hands focused on cleaning his weapons, his gaze straying frequently to the small sleeping bundle in the back of the tent.  The Claim was his and nothing would make him back down now.  Whimpers and muffled cries of pleasure settled softly into the warm night air, the paper lantern above bathing all in a warm golden glow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart for Chapter 1! Thankyou so much!
> 
>  
> 
> [Pandemonium07 #1](http://pandemonium07.deviantart.com/art/Relent-504291293)  
> [Pandemonium07 #2](http://pandemonium07.deviantart.com/art/Inner-Withdrawl-501894405?q=gallery%3APandemonium07%2F23631477&qo=9)


	2. Chapter 2

Don woke slowly, to the completely unfamiliar and wonderful sensation of being warm and comfortable - almost floating.  A thin blanket offered nothing compared to the luxurious furs enfolding him and the soft futon beneath his shell.  He very nearly drifted straight back to sleep and then the memories struck him of the previous day and he sat up carefully, feeling groggy and weak - and stared.  He had gone to sleep on the floor of a tent and woken up in a palace  or at the very least, the most beautiful room he had ever seen.  Spacious and cool, the walls were some kind of roughly polished pale creamy stone, the floors covered in heavy mats woven from fine reeds.  A few tapestries hung down the walls but one was completely given over to a collection of weapons, most in sizes and shapes that he had never seen before.  The furniture was all intricately carved and finely polished - much better quality than he had ever seen before.

The main door was a solid wood, but there were two inner doors of a delicate paper and wood framework.  A sudden need gripped him and he wondered if one of them led to a privy.  A nervous, unsteady exploration yielded him success behind the first paper screen where a special seat had been carved over the chamber pot.  Don took care of his business and then tested the wooden door.  It was locked solid as he'd suspected it might be and the other sliding door led down a dark hallway he was too nervous to explore.  With nothing else to do and his legs feeling weak and unsteady, he climbed back into bed and within moments of the furs enfolding him sank back into deep dreamless sleep.  

A few hours later he woke at a soft bang and struggled upright to find he was no longer alone.   Golden eyes were watching him from the low-set polished table in the middle of the room.  Don froze in apprehension, anxiety coiling his guts in a tight web, but when the soft bang sounded a second time it ended the awkward moment and Raphael rose smoothly to open the door.  The warrior spoke a few words to someone out of sight and then closed it behind him, now carrying a small bundle in one hand and a plate in the other. 

The warrior didn't smile, but his eyes were soft as he jerked his head in a clear 'come here' gesture, reclaiming his position on the cushions at the table.  Reluctant to leave the nest of blankets and face his new owner, Don slowly climbed free and moved to sit where the emerald turtle gestured.  He kept his eyes downcast, the chains rattling uncomfortably on his sore wrists.  He was aware of Raphael's body moving in close to his and froze again, only to have his wrists taken as the warrior studied the shackles.  

The emerald turtle picked up the bundle, flicking the edge and making the leather kit unroll smoothly across the table revealing sets of small tools in sewn pockets.  He picked a few, muttering under his breath in the language of the clans.  Don studied him in confusion as the terrapin tried to get a good angle into the locking mechanism.  How was he supposed to behave with a Master who spoke a completely different language?  The slightest mistake had always earned him a cuff or a blow.  How was he going to survive when he barely understood? His new master looked like he could probably snap him in half without even trying?

Raphael wore only his black hakama and by anyone's standards, he was powerfully built.  His impressions of the previous day were only confirmed now that he could see the beautifully carved muscle on the terrapins arms, the broad chest filling his vision.  Don had never seen anyone in such good shape before and he shivered to be in the proximity of such strength.  He realised he was staring and looked away to distract himself, his gaze settling on the plate.  It was loaded with slices of pale brown bread with crusty edges, slathered with butter beside wedges of a creamy white cheese and slices of fruit.  Hunger hit him so hard he felt his head swim dizzily.  When was the last time he had eaten?  Almost 48 hours ago now. He swallowed the saliva that suddenly flooded his mouth and tore his gaze away unsteadily.  If he had to sit and watch his master eat that, there was a fair chance he was going to pass out.

The other muttered a sharp curse, holding up a snapped tool and his eyes narrowed.  He released Don's wrists and then tugged on one arm higher up.  Confused, Don obeyed the guided pull on his arm until he was sitting between solid warm thighs.  Those arms came around him from behind, until their bodies were pressed so close together Don could feel every hard, warm line of his master's body and fear was beating a rapid tempo at his throat.  He was still naked - slaves were rarely afforded clothes of their own and he felt a hot flush travel up his neck as his captors head peered over his shoulder in order to see what he was doing - using the position to angle his lock picks better.  Don was too weak to hold himself up for long so he relaxed nervously into that hold, his head resting against the solid shoulder as emerald fingers worked deftly at the stubborn shackles.

A familiar scent teased his senses and he realised it was the same comforting musk of the blankets he'd been sleeping in.  There was no clinging mustiness or bitter odours from fur that needed to be washed more often and brushed out.  No residual scent of fear or filth, or the oddly sour scents that his old master had carried from some kind of skin allergy she had always been scratching at.  Raphael's skin was smooth and hair free, and warm ... so warm.  And that scent - a healthy, pleasant muskiness.  An alpha's scent, telling his body with chemical messages what he already understood with his eyes.  Strength, health, virility and dominance.  Scented signals woven into a unique signature that encouraged any other terrapin to submit to a strength greater than his own.  Don found himself relaxing, despite the fear.  Being able to identify the nature of the message didn't make him immune from its effects.  

Then - freedom of a sort.  A grinding click and a grunt of triumph, and suddenly he was gasping in pain as the metal cuffs unclasped, pulling harshly on his abraided skin.  Raphael carefully lifted Don's inflamed wrists away from the metal and then turned his attention to the back of Don's neck.  Gentle fingers pushed his head forward and he shivered as the tools ground and clicked in his ears.  Don held his throbbing wrists that suddenly felt so featherlight and then blinked in shocked relief as in the next moment, the collar gave a reluctant creak and the whole lot fell into his lap.  Slaves were not supposed to be left in these harnesses for long periods.  It was punishment for something he could no longer remember - punishment that had lasted an entire month.  A month of not being able to extend his arms properly, flex his hands without it hurting or sleeping without the whole lot cutting into his flesh.  

Rage came out of nowhere and suddenly the harness was sailing across the room, crashing into the stone wall as he panted in fury.  Behind him Raphael said something, the words making no sense, but the tone layered in approval and Don felt the emotion drain out of him, too tired to maintain it.  When he tried to get up and swayed unsteadily, he was firmly tugged back against that solid chest.  His master said something low and gruff, pulling the plate towards them and Don stared at it with wide eyes, his stomach trying to gnaw a hole out through his plastron.  When he didn't reach out to take the food Raphael swiped a piece of bread off the plate, wrapping it around a wedge of the soft white cheese and pressed it into Don's hand.  That was all the permission he needed.  

It was the best thing he'd ever tasted.  The cheese was rich and smooth and the bread was still warm and crusty, the butter wonderfully salty.  When he was finished with that Raphael growled softly until Don made his hand move toward the plate on his own.  His strength returned as he ate - more of the rich bread and cheese, slices of melon and a hand-full of red and purple berries that burst sweetly on the tongue.  He ate until his stomach had begun to strain and he couldn't have managed more if he'd tried.  Raphael got up at one point and when it was clear Don wasn't going to topple over went about his business, packing up his tools and tucking them into a carved chest, dumping the shackles outside his door with a grimace of disgust.

There were never any guarantees as a slave.  As a general rule you ate as much as you could when you got the chance because who knew where or when your next meal might come.  Don stared wistfully at the half full plate - he knew if he tried to eat any more he risked being sick and whatever punishment might follow for being greedy.  The sensation of having a full belly was enough to bring tears to his eyes.  He blinked them back and jumped when one of the inner screen doors suddenly slid open and the blue-eyed slave from the previous day bounced into the room cheerfully.

He flashed Don a smile and a 'Good morning!'  then turned and wrapped his arms around Raphael's arm, tugging playfully.  The warrior waved him away in irritation and Don flinched but Mike just laughed as he settled next to Don.

'Oh, you left me some, how considerate.'  he grinned irreverently and stuffed some bread and cheese into his mouth, cocking his head as Raphael growled something low, then studied Don as he chewed, his eyes more serious.  

'You look a little better.  Sorry about the sleeping brew - I forgot I should have halved the dose since you're so skinny but at least you missed the long boring trip back home.  You don't have a headache do you?'

He spotted Don's raw wrists and winced in sympathy.  'Told you Raph'd get them off.  We'll have to do something about your wrists later, they look sore.'

Don wasn't entirely sure how to respond to the tirade of questions and comments.  Raphael was standing by a higher table in the corner of the room flipping through a leather folder and seemed completely unconcerned but was it really ok to speak casually in his presence?  He licked his lips nervously, shot a wary glance at Raph who continued to ignore them and cleared his throat, his voice hoarse from the previous days smoke.

'Is this .. normal?  For the slaves here?'  

'Is what normal?'  Mike blinked, clueless and Don swallowed again.

'The - food.  Us - talking.  Is this really alright?'

Mikey gave him a gentle, lopsided smile.  'Nobodies going to punish you for talking, whether it's to me or anybody else.  You're in Terra now and the 'slave' thing is a whole different ballgame here.  This is more snack food than a standard breakfast but we figured your stomach might not handle anything too complicated for a while.  Speaking of which, Raph's given me strict instructions to work at fattening you up so we're not moving until you clean up the rest of the plate and trust me - you don't want to tick him off first thing in the morning, he's a grouch.'  

He said it seriously but there was a clear twinkle in his eyes that Don was starting to appreciate as a message in itself.  There was no fear in the small terrapin's demeanor.  No anxiety, just an irreverent and open personality that seemed perfectly at ease in his master's presence.  Don had never met a slave that didn't fear his owners, so he found it difficult to believe Mikey's attitude was completely genuine.  The leaf-green terrapin reached out and deliberately slid the plate back under Don's snout.  Just minutes ago it had been making him drool - but his stomach had shrunk from so many small meals over the years.

'I'm not sure I can eat anymore without being sick.'  he said weakly.  

Mike reached out and snagged a slice of melon, stripping it with a flash of practised teeth.  'Now you've only got a little bit left.  I know you can do it, just take it slow.'

It seemed to take forever for him to get the last of the food down and his stomach strained uncomfortably with the load but after a few minutes of discomfort where he wondered if he was going to hurl it all back up again, he began to feel ok.  His malnourished body was determined to hold onto the nourishment and Mike grinned again.  

'I knew you could do it. We gotta get you eating decent sized meals again or you'll never strengthen up.  Lots of mini-meals until your appetite comes back properly, I think.  '

The blue-eyed turtle pulled Don up with him as he stood and herded him towards the door he'd come through.  Raphael set down what he was doing and moved up behind them, his eyes following Don's every movement, watchful but not threatening.  It made him nervous and he decided to risk it and accept Mike's insistence that he was allowed to talk at face value.

'Are you the only one that speaks common here?'  he asked anxiously.  'I mean - If he doesn't, how am I supposed to know what to do?'

'It's bathtime dude, no questions at bathtime only play. Everything else can come after.'

Don blinked.  'Play?'

Mikey nodded but his serious expression was ruined by the twinkle in his eyes.  'And boring personal hygiene of course, but mostly play.  After that you can ask allll the questions you want.'

There was nothing to do but accept this so Don gave himself over to the situation and whatever was to follow.

Raphael nudged him from behind and he moved quickly to get out of the largers' way only to have Mike grin at him and link arms, pulling him along.

'You're going to love this.'  he told Don with a grin.  'We've got the best bathhouse in the clans.'

He was right.  They emerged into a spacious chamber with high ceilings, the walls opening out onto a view of rainforest mountains that made him gape with awe.  Red-tipped Feather Ferns had been allowed to creep up the walls, creating a gently shimmering ceiling of moving fronds living off the condensing steam and minerals.  Delicate orange-tipped orchids weaved through the foliage, entwining with another vine whose gigantic spotted pods swayed from the ceiling like pale lanterns.  The baths themselves were fed by a hot spring welling from a rock recess in the wall at one end of the room, which flowed from there directly into three individual pools that emptied into each other.  The first was a fairly shallow basin where steam and ominous bubbles burbled on the surface.  From there it flowed over a shallow dip into the larger central pool lined with a darker stone where steam wafted lightly off the surface at the deeper end.  It was easily large enough for five or six people and channels cut at the shallow end emptied into the last and smallest pool before flowing away out of the room through a drainage channel that went through the wall and down a sheer drop.  It was incredible.

He wanted to submerse himself in that steaming water and soak every aching muscle in his body but Mikey gently pushed him over to some low stools he hadn't yet noticed and made him sit.

'No offence, but we gotta get this residual slave off you first.'  Mikey said, wrinkling his snout.  'We always wash here first and then rinse in the lower pool, then you can soak in the middle area.  The top one's just for cooling the water so don't accidentally step in it or you'll be hopping for days.'  he grimaced and pointed at himself.  'Speakin' from experience here.'

Don understood instantly.  Each pool held a different temperature of water depending on the depth and its distance from the source, and the constant overflow helped to keep the water fresh and clean.  By washing first and then rinsing in the lower pool, it would carry the suds and dirt away, leaving the middle area fresh and clean to soak and relax in. He wanted to keep studying the incredible design of the bathroom but Raphael moved toward him with two lightly steaming buckets and said something to Mikey.

'Close your eyes.'  Mike translated.  Don did as he was bid and shuddered in pleasure as the water hit the top of his head in a gentle stream.  It was warm and clean.  The second load bathed his shoulders and shell until he was saturated. 

When he opened his eyes Raphael was holding out a bar of faintly spicy-smelling pale soap and in his other hand was an odd looking scrubbing brush.  Mikey said something to Raph who shook his head and moved to take a seat behind Don, gently tapping Don's shell.

He looked at Mike in query and was rewarded with a slightly envious look.  'Don't freak out or anything, he's just going to scrub your shell.  Trust me when I say it feels sooooo gooood.' 

Mike broke off to say something else to Raphael who grunted response and poured something slick across the top of Don's battered shell, spreading it with his hands.  Don listened as they spoke back and forth, running the bar of soap through his fingers to get a good suds.

It was clear the two of them were very comfortable with each other.  Mikey said something in a teasing tone and the turtle behind him growled in response.  When the blue-eyed turtle crossed his arms smugly, there was no warning, just a sudden blur of movement as an emerald leg shot out and then a resounding splash as the blue-eyed turtle hit the water.  Don almost laughed at the dark snicker of amusement in his ear and then Mike emerged spluttering curses in common that made Don pale.  He waited for the mood to change, for Raphael to stand and punish Mikey for crossing a line of respect ... and nothing happened.  

Raphael only grunted in satisfaction and turned his attention back to Don's shell.  Don sat there stunned, running the soap up one arm slowly as he tried to understand this strangely flexible social order - an order he had no experience dealing with.  Then a sensation on his back sent tingles all the way from this head to his curled toes.  He gasped and jerked, staring over his shoulder with wide eyes.  Golden eyes met his with an amused smirk and the warrior waved the odd looking brush, the bristles already tipped with whatever filth was ground into Don's shell.    
Don shivered and turned back slowly, fixing his eyes on Mikey who had chosen to dump his sodden clothes on the edge of the bath and just float comfortably, but his entire being focused on the sensory banquet as Raphael set the brush to his scutes and began to scrub.   The vibrations from the movement created waves - rippling tingles of pleasure that spread through his entire body until his toes were curling, the sensation so incredibly good that a helpless, low moan worked its way through his lips.  He opened his eyes to find that Mikey had propped his head on his arms at the edge of the bath, watching him with a knowing smile.  He didn't dare turn his head to see the look on his master's face, so he swallowed nervously and dipped the soap in his bucket of water to get a lather.

Occasionally the emerald turtle paused to splash water over the areas he had worked on and Don could only stare numbly at the dark black stream draining between his feet.  He'd gotten so used to being filthy that he'd stopped thinking about it.  Humiliation flushed him at the sheer amount of dirt coming off his skin.  He picked up a slightly scratchy sponge lying nearby and ground the soap into it then set to work, scrubbing everything he could reach until his skin was raw and tingling, and the entire time Raphael worked patiently away at his shell, paying careful attention to the groove of each scute.  That was confusing in itself.  Why was a master helping him scrub the muck off his shell? It was certainly work beneath an owner - more suited to another slave.  

The number of questions was starting to build up behind his teeth, but he held his tongue and focused on removing a years worth of dirt, paying careful attention to his sore wrists, even daring to pull himself out when Mike had submerged himself and give his privates a good lather.  It felt weird pulling himself back in with so many bubbles still clinging to his sensitive skin, but he wasn't about to walk around with it hanging out.  Raphael had not touched him in that way yet, but he might see it as some kind of invitation.  He endured the tickle of the suds and focused on cleaning other private areas that needed attention, desperate to be clean, completely clean despite the fact he had an audience, though his master was pointedly ignoring whatever he was doing as he focused on Don's shell.

When he was done, Don waited patiently for the careful ministrations to finish, signalled by another light tap on his shell.  Raph nodded to himself in satisfaction and set the brush down, then pointed to the rinsing pool.  Don moved to the water, carefully slipping in.  It was warm but not much warmer than his skin temperature.  He slipped under, rubbing his entire body down until he could almost hear his skin squeak and watched as clouds of dirty suds swirled away and were sucked over the slipway into the drain.  When he came back up he felt strangely raw and somewhat fragile.  As if the dirt had been helping to hold him together and washing it away had left him more exposed.  

He turned to see Raphael move towards him, stripped down and completely unselfconscious as he held out his hand to help Don get out of the water.  Don stared at him apprehensively, an unfamiliar feeling tingling through his belly.  Raphael's legs were shapely for a male turtle, his thighs powerful slabs of solid muscle leading up to narrow hips, plastron sloping down like shaped armour over his broad chest.  Realising he was staring, Don forced himself to reach up and Raphael pulled him out the tub easily and led him to the deeper pool.  Don tried not to stare at the solid, sleek tail resting lightly against the terrapin's hard flanks.  An instant later he was distracted by the sensation of the water as it enfolded them, body temperature at the lower end, then warmer, then almost too hot to bear as Raphael pulled him deeper.  

It was bliss.  Pure, sensory pleasure in its most basic form. As a turtle he craved water, desperately sometimes. To live covered in dirt and so rarely be allowed to bask or swim or even bathe had left his body malnourished of many elements, vital for a turtles health.  The water soaked into his skin as his body absorbed moisture it desperately needed, the swirling heat penetrating his muscles and revealing aches he hadn't been conscious of anymore - gnawing at them and then triggering some kind of release.  Parts of his body that had been tense for the last ten years started to unravel.  Relief followed pain, release leaving him weak as aching tension was gently, blissfully sucked out of him.  The heat was like a power source and his body soaked it in hungrily, absorbing it until he felt comfortably hot.  Eventually he remembered to open his eyes, only to find the other two as lazy-eyed and relaxed as he was. Not that it lasted long.  As soon as he realised he had an audience, Mikey began to plot.  Don watched the smaller move over to Raph and sling careless arms around the broad shoulders, nuzzling with a complete lack of shyness.  Raphael suffered the attention for a moment and then gave a warning grunt.  When that was ignored he pulled the other close for a second, nipping some place on the smaller shoulder before dunking him with a satisfied smirk.  

Mikey came up with a splutter, completely unfazed and then turned his eyes on Don in evil mischief.  The splash caught Don full in the face and he coughed in surprise, frozen between a sudden uncharacteristic desire to retaliate and fear of what the punishment might be if he did.  Raphael said nothing, slinging his glistening arms over the edge of the pool and eyed him lazily, then his head moved almost imperceptibly in Mikey's direction.  

Don hesitated and then his eyes narrowed on the smaller turtle.  He cupped his hand into a curve and then dug at the surface of the water.   His splash shot off the top in the shape of an arrow and smacked Mikey in the forehead hard enough to make the smaller yelp and flounder.  Raphael roared with surprised laughter and pushed off the wall, moving to Don's side with a wicked grin that sizzled all the way down to Don's toes.  He'd made his master laugh - made him smile! Raph curved his hand and struck the water in an imitation of Don's move but failed to gain the same effect.  He said something to Mikey who was sulking, only his eyes visible above the water and the smaller translated with bruised dignity.

'He wants you to show him how you nailed me.'  he burbled.

Don managed to look at the emerald turtle shyly, an odd feeling swelling in his chest.  Everything this morning had been like a dream.  He was clean and his stomach was full of good food, he'd slept well and warmly and his chains had been removed. Nobody had hurt him, yelled or even asked him to do anything yet.  His new owner had done nothing worse than growl occasionally, his manner gruff but somehow non-threatening - and completely eclipsed by the way his face warmed when he smiled ... and now he was going to teach his master how to do something?  He had never been asked to teach anyone anything before.  The emerald turtle moved closer to him and Don was suddenly too warm.  Didn't they realise this was a bath?  They were all naked.  Naked and wet ... water droplets were sliding down Raphael's body, tracing the curves of muscle beneath his skin, following the lines of his body.  Don blinked in confusion.   Suddenly he was so thirsty and the larger emerald turtle's skin was so damp.  Confused, the beginnings of his smile faded with the realisation that this couldn't last and the return of fear - he was being too trusting.

'Hey, are you ok?'  Mike asked, all earlier signs of mischief gone.  Don realised they were both watching him and nodded cautiously.

'I'm just not ... used to ... this.'  he finished uncertainly.  Mikey just nodded and translated for Raph whose eyes gleamed knowingly - but there was no pity there and Don felt a small surge of confidence push back at the fear.  Clearly, the meaning of the word slave was different here and as far as he could see the changes were all positive.  

Don turned to the emerald turtle a little more confidently and held up his hand, demonstrating how he used the heel of his hand to strike the water and the direction of his cupped fingers to guide the flow.  Raph moved to watch Don do it again, though this time Mikey ducked underwater.  Five minutes later the door opened once more and the water fight of all water fights ended sheepishly as a fourth terrapin appeared, his gaze penetrating and faintly amused to find himself already half drenched upon entering the room.  He passed a few words with Raphael, his gaze sliding over Don as Mikey moved to his side.  

'This is Leonardo, Raph's Brother.  Leo is the Hamato clan leader and Raph's his second in command.  The Hamato's have been the leaders over all the terrapin clans for the last two hundred years.  Their rooms connect through the bathhouse so we're often in here at the same time.' 

Don vaguely recalled seeing Leo the previous night and found himself moving closer to Raphael, the earlier lightness chased away by those obsidian eyes that were so difficult to read.  Leo was a clan leader, which made him the most powerful man in this region and men such as that were generally men to be feared.  Anxiety returned as he waited to see what would happen.

Raphael said something to Mikey who snorted and Don saw the clear irritation flicker across the emerald face before the entire scene exploded as a shell shot past, a wave of water smashing them all with a hot, stinging slap.   Leo's grin was deadly as he emerged from the depths, steam rising from his shell.  Raphael snarled something and tackled him roughly and Mikey followed.  And Don could only watch in quiet awe from the edge with a better understanding of 'playtime' as the three-way wrestling match erupted - until Mikey suddenly tackled him and he found himself drawn into the chaos, spluttering weakly as he was dragged under, only to emerge panting and shove someone else beneath the water at the next opportunity.  For a few precious moments he almost forgot who and what he was until he gripped a pair of broad shoulders and dunked someone - and realised it was his new master.  He stopped and gripped the pool edge, out of breath and feeling overwhelmed.

Leonardo was laughing openly as Mikey struggled and failed to wrestle him under, the leaner's muscles failing to budge the Alphas superior strength.  As Raphael emerged with nothing more than a soft snort of indignation and a swiped splash in his direction, Don realised there was no way he was strong enough to dunk Raphael or any of them ... unless these people were allowing themselves to be.  

He felt something small and warm bloom in his chest. What kind of men were these?  He couldn't trust them, not yet, but for the first time in a long time he felt like he wanted to.


	3. Chapter 3

Don found his strength flagging as Mike pulled him from the baths, showing him where rolls of fresh towels were kept along with loose silky robes.  Don fingered the material as he pulled one over his shell, not quite believing he could be wearing something so fine.  No time to marvel further when the blue-eyed slave was pulling him back down the corridor towards Raphael's suite.  Don shot a glance over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of golden and obsidian eyes watching them before Mikey pulled him out of sight.

'Come on.  They've got politics to discuss and trust me when I say it's dull even when you can _understand_ what they're saying.'  

In the time they'd been gone a small steaming bowl had appeared.  Porridge in a thick, creamy milk and sprinkled liberally with glistening brown sugar.  Don caught a whiff of cinnamon and nutmeg and laid a hand over his belly as it growled.  How could he be hungry again already?

Mike sniffed in appreciation.  'Eat before it gets cold, huh?  I've got to organise a few things.'

Don spent the next fifteen minutes filling the hollow place in his belly with the sweet, rich food and thinking about what had just occurred in the bathhouse.  He wasn't a fool, clearly some of that had been for his benefit.  The question was how much of it was real and what did they stand to gain by lowering his guard?  By the time he was done, Mikey had returned fully clothed in black hakama and a rich orange kimono that enhanced his sky-blue eyes.  Following a step behind him was another terrapin with delicate features, dressed in a pale blue yukata.  She smiled at Don shyly.  The olive turtle pulled his robe tighter self-consciously and managed a faint smile.

'This is Sion.  Fastest needle in the west,' he said with a flirtatious grin.

Sion blushed and put down a small bundle she had clutched to her chest, her gaze flicking over Don's bruises before meeting his eyes with a compassionate smile.  

'Raphael-sama has asked me to make up some clothes for you.'  she told Don softly.  'I just need to take some measurements.'

Don blinked.  Clothes of his own?  New ones?  Mike seemed to sense his confusion and pulled him to his feet as Sion moved around him taking measurements that made no sense to him at all.  Mike just smiled at his expression and went to a wardrobe door Don hadn't noticed before, sliding it open to reveal an array of kimono and various coats.

'Where is it ...?  Oh! Stuffed in the back of course.  Raph doesn't wear this anywhere near as often as he should.'

He pulled out a long black haori weaved from heavy, raw silk.  Blood-red dragons gleamed on the sleeves in shining thread, the thick coils clinging lazily to each arm before draping down the fabric and coiling around to the back.  Tiny embroidered flowers lent the design a scattering of violet that enhanced the richness of the reds.  Don had never seen a more beautiful piece of clothing before.  It wasn't difficult imagining those broad shoulders draped in the heavy silk.  

'There's a clan meeting next week.'  Mike told Sion.  'This needs an air and I think something for our new guest to compliment at formal occasions.'  he told her conspiratorially.

Sion nodded and glanced back at Don.  'With his beautiful skin tones, I have just the thing in mind.'  she said with a smile.  'They will look perfect together.'

Don found himself flushing as her look became a little more direct and almost suggestive.  What exactly was she implying?  He shifted uncomfortably under her speculative gaze.  Was that a faint smirk?  

Mike glanced from one to the other and then cleared his throat.  'Yeah, well, we'll need the usual as well.  Everyday clothes, some things to ride in and winters coming soon so some warmer gear.'

Sion nodded and picked up her things.  'I'll get right on it.  We should have most of it ready by this evening.  The coats may take a little longer.'

Mike thanked her and she left them with a flutter of trailing fabric and a small wave in Don's direction.

When she was gone Mike went to one of the chests at the edge of the room and pulled out a plain wooden box, setting it on the table next to Don.  

'Let's take a look at those injuries,'  he muttered, pulling two sealed jars from the box and sniffing them with a wince.  He wiggled closer to Don and dug his fingers into the first jar, pulling out a glob of pungent, gleaming goo.  Don held out his wrists and allowed the other to spread the cool unguent over his raw flesh, amazed to find it didn't hurt in any way, just tingled until he couldn't feel the dull ache anymore.

'I was hoping you'd feel better about telling us your name today.'  The smaller said more quietly, eyes focused on his task.  

Don looked away, feeling a fresh jolt of anxiety.  

'There's good reasons for telling us you know.'  Mike told him softly, picking up some strips of gauze to layer over the goo.  'We can look in the registers and try to find out what village you came from.  We might be able to find out what happened to your family.'

Don stared at him, his heart missing a beat and Mike continued wrapping his wrists with a few layers of protective linen.  Green forests, a small house, thatched and cosy, the scent of crushed lavender.   Fragments were all he had left.

'I don't remember them,'  he admitted hoarsely.  'I don't remember anything from before.'

Michelangelo studied him for a moment and then opened the other jar.  It contained something slightly less gooey with a sweet, spicy smell.  Don flinched as the turtle's fingers touched his bruised face, spreading the gel with gentle fingers.  

'Yeah, but you remember your name right?  I understand. It isn't easy to trust.  Even with a full belly and clothes on your back you still feel like the chains are there for a while.'  Blue-eyes studied him patiently.  'But we need to call you something and I can't tell Raph what you used to be called.'

Don dared to question, resentment flaring.  What did it matter what they called him?  Nobody had ever given a damn before, why should they now.  'Why not?'

Mike gave him a direct look.  'First of all, he's gonna know that isn't your real name.  Nobody's expecting you to feel comfortable on the first day but he'll still be hurt that you don't even trust him that much.'

Don blinked. Hurt? A Master's emotions were things to monitor, signals that told you how submissive you should behave, how likely you were to get beaten that day.  Outside of how that emotion may somehow be inflicted on him, Don had never met a slave that cared about his owner the way Mikey clearly did.  The idea stunned him.  The terrapin continued, unaware of Don's silent confusion.

'Secondly, if you won't tell us your real name, at least choose something that doesn't insult the both of you and make him angry.'  Don flinched, recalled the way those intense golden eyes had looked at him, the way gentle fingers had touched his face ... and felt an odd pang of guilt.  

'It's Don,' he said quietly.  Not the whole of it - but more than he had given anyone in a long time.

It was enough.  Mike smiled.  'Don.'  

The olive turtle shivered to hear his name spoken after so long and Michelangelo shifted to reach the bruises running down his arm, tugging the robe down Don's shoulders so his fingers could leave trails of cool, numbing gel.  

'It'll be ok, you know.  I was just like you.  I kept waiting for something bad to happen that would prove this was all some sick mind game. Then after a while I was terrified I'd wake up and find the whole thing was just a dream.'

Don saw the shadows flicker behind blue eyes.  'How did you come to be here?' he asked quietly.  

Mike switched sides with a thoughtful hum.  'Fair's fair, I guess. You shared with me, so I'll share with you.'

Something faded from the turtles blue eyes, his expression going oddly blank.

'Our village in Terra was close to the southern borders.  Hun raiders came through one day and took most of us to sell in the outer border towns.  I don't know what happened to my mother or my father ... but I heard things when they were dragging us away and I can guess. They prefer us as kids you see. We're easier to control, easier to retrain.'

Don shivered. He knew.

'We travelled for about a week while they had their fun.  Burning, raping.  Eventually, the cages were so full nobody could sit down anymore so they headed for the unclaimed territories to get rid of us.  I was ten when they stood me on the blocks and the owner of the local whorehouse won my ticket.'  

Don felt the blood drain from his face and stared at his companion with fresh respect.  Mike averted his gaze, focusing on his task.

'I survived.  It wasn't easy - it wasn't _living_ but I was a fast learner and I didn't want to die.  I learned enough to keep me alive when others weren't so lucky.  When I was fifteen everything changed. I was ... half out of it with some kind of fever.  The owner of the house wouldn't give me a day off and when I couldn't _perform_ the client beat me half to death ... as if he made it any easier when he stank like a privy pit and hadn't bathed in weeks.  By that point I was so tolerant to Saffras not even double-doses were working anymore.'

'Saffras?'  Don had never heard the term before.

Mike glanced at him.  'It's a spice.  Does for us what catnip does to the Felidae Clans.  Potent aphrodisiac used alot in the whorehouses - makes you get it up for just about anything and anyone with enough of it in your system. And unfortunately for us our kind are worth a fair bit in the cock-houses. We have a certain reputation for stamina and size that some of the other clans lack.'

Don blanched and nodded.  Mikey continued, his voice softening.  'Leo came looking for some recruits that were supposed to be training and should have known better than to think he would turn a blind eye.  He found them alright and he found me as well.  He made a claim on me right there and brought me back with him.  I woke up in his rooms and thought I'd died and gone to heaven - except I hurt so badly I still wanted to die, so it made no sense.'  he gave a crooked smile.

Don felt sick.  He had been lucky in his own way.  It was common knowledge that most slaves didn't survive the whorehouses for more than ten years.  Too much abuse and disease, not enough food and rest when it was cheaper to just buy new slaves than maintain them beyond basic survival.  

Mike sat up straighter, his expression lightening and jammed the lid back on the jar.

'Leo saved me.  Taught me the Clan tongue, gave me a new life.  Showed me what it means to love someone without expecting anything in return.'  Mike's blue eyes softened as he smiled, remembering.  'I've never met anyone so patient and gentle,' he said quietly then looked at Don.  'Except maybe Raph.'

Don understood the message the smaller was trying to give him but couldn't quite bring himself to believe it.  'You ... you talk like you love him,' he queried hesitantly, wanting to understand.

The terrapin met his gaze for a long moment.  'I'd die for him,' he whispered.  Don sat back in confusion but didn't doubt the fierceness that filled those blue eyes.  His gaze fell to the embossed silver collar the smaller wore.

'Even though you're still a slave?'

Mike blinked and tugged at the ring around his neck.  'You mean this?  This is nothing.  It's a symbol, that's all.  It tells others in the Clan that I'm under Leo's protection.  His consort in a way.  I don't have to wear it anymore, but I choose to.'

It took a moment for the words to sink in.  Don stared.  'Consort?  But that means you and he are -'

Mike just looked at him and Don felt a cold prickle of dread, pulling the robe back over his shoulders and pulling it tight.  'I see.  And is that same service expected of me in return for all this ... _kindness_?'

Mike frowned at Don's bitter expression, searching for the right words.  'You aren't exactly a slave anymore Don.  It's complicated and Leo is going to explain it tomorrow, but nobody's going to force you to do anything.'   Mike hesitated, taking a moment to put the lids back on the jars and store them carefully.  When he turned back, his eyes were serious, searching for something in Don's face the olive turtle wasn't sure he could give.

'Having said that, you need to try and understand.  'Master' has a completely different meaning here than the kind you've grown up with.  Raph's made a formal Claim for you which means he's taken responsibility for your wellbeing and made a commitment to try and give you a better life.  Raphael's never taken this kind of interest in anyone before - he's very ... private, and sometimes getting him to open up is more likely to land you a kick in the teeth but his actions always speak louder than words.   Leo might not show it but he's stunned and if Leo's stunned you can bet the rest of the clan will be too.  You're going to get alot of interested parties trying to figure out what makes you special in his eyes.  They'll flatter you, try to pick your brain and when they're through they'll start trying to manipulate you to their advantage.  To them, getting close to you will mean getting closer to him.'

Don felt cold.  'What are you trying to say?'

Mike gave Don a pointed look.  'We're talking about the two most powerful males in the Terrapin Clans.  Everyone is trying to get into their pants or looking for a way to gain some kind of special favour or influence.' he stated bluntly.  'They're all going to assume you're sleeping with him, so be prepared for the speculation.  Sion's reaction earlier was just a small taste of the rumours already spreading about Raphael Hamato's new acquisition.'

Mike grimaced as Don paled.  'Don't freak out, ok?  I told you - nobody's gonna force you to do anything - but that won't stop them flapping their gums and spreading rumours that'll make your face turn red.  I'll try and get you settled before you have to deal with all of that but if something happens and you get thrown into the deep end, just remember that the politics here is very intricate.  Don't trust anyone at face value and remember that the only ones you answer to are Raph and Leo.  Nobody else can give you orders so don't let them think you're intimidated.

It was too much.  Don put his hand to his head at the beginnings of a spearing headache and tried to process the information, both spoken and unsaid.  They would assume he was Raphael's lover but he wasn't expected to be?   Why would they think one if it wasn't likely to be the other?  

Tiredness hit him in a solid wave and Don blinked wearily and looked from the cup back to Mike who was smiling sheepishly. 

'Just a little herbal to help you sleep better.'  he said.

Don protested as the smaller pulled him up, but somehow the smaller turtle had him stripped and tucked back into the warm depths of Raphael's bed within the space of a few moments.  

'I can't sleep again -,'  he tried to say.  

Mike touched his forehead, gently pushing him back down onto the pillows, his eyes serious.  'Nobody expects you to do anything but eat and rest for the next few days, Don.  When you're stronger Raph and Leo will sit down and we'll talk about what all this means for you.  For now, just try and relax.  You're safe.  Just rest. I'll bring some food for you later.'

Don's words were stumbling, sleep dragging heavily.  

'But this is his bed ... I can't - I've never ...'

Mikey pulled the furs up higher and said softly.  'Raphael won't hurt you, Don.  Just sleep.'

Don slept.

* * *

Raph watched Mike tow the olive turtle back down the short hallway.  'Playtime' had gone better than expected and probably done more in ten minutes of messing around to give the timid slave some courage than a few hours of reassuring explanations could have achieved.  You had to hand it to Mikey, he knew how to lighten the mood - but it was only day one. Raphael knew better than most, that the shadows behind a slave's eyes took time to fade - if they ever truly did.

Leonardo stepped out of the pool and pulled a pale blue robe around his shoulders. 

'I need to talk to you,' he told his brother.  It was more a command than a request.    

Raph levered himself smoothly out of the water, wafts of steam lifting off his shoulders and pulled a robe over his wet skin.

'As long as there's coffee on offer.'  

The Clan leader lifted a faintly insulted brow.  'Of course.'  

Leonardo's rooms were on the opposite side of the bathhouse and down a short hallway connecting to his rooms.  Raphael followed him into a suite that was slightly larger and more elegant than his own and settled on the floor cushions as his brother moved gracefully about the room, preparing their drinks.  Leo set a strong cup of steaming coffee in front of Raph and settled down to pour his own green tea from a delicately painted pot into one of the small ceramic cups he favoured.  They spent a minute in relaxed silence before the elder set his cup down, his expression turning serious.

'He's in bad shape, Raph.  Those bruises are layered over time and he's so weak.'  The eldest looked at him, his eyes full of old anger.  'He's got the same hunted eyes Mikey had when he got here and from the look of him he's been a slave for a lot longer.  It won't be easy getting him to trust you.'  

Amber eyes darkened as they met his but the emerald turtle only nodded thoughtfully. 

Leo studied the dark emotions shifting over his brother's face and sipped his tea.  'Are you sure he can't speak any clan?'  

Raph considered the question before grunting softly.  'You're thinking spy?'

Leo watched him, his expression neutral.  'It wouldn't be the first time someone tried to get close to us for their own ends.'

Raph shrugged and shook his head.  'No way to know for sure but he's scared, I can smell it on him whenever I get close enough.  Mikey and I talked over his head all morning and he didn't bat an eye.'  The emerald terrapin slung an arm over his raised knee and sipped his coffee.  'I'll keep an eye on him but I don't think so, Leo. You can't fake that beaten look in his eyes and his scent is just ... _wrong_.'

Leonardo relaxed a fraction.  Raph had good instincts when it came to those around him.  Perhaps it was because of his own shadowed history.  In any case, he let the issue lie and turned the conversation to other pressing concerns.

'Councillor Splinter was here earlier.  The claim challenge has been pushed back even further.'

Raph looked up, his eyes narrowing.  'Why?  You think they're stalling for something?'

Leo shook his head slightly, his brow furrowing.

'I'm not sure.  Splinter said they've cited some internal issues that need urgent attention but I could tell he was concerned.  The council gave me a date for the right of combat - three weeks from now.  Until then they're allowing you to keep him.'  

Raph frowned suspiciously.  'Smells like trouble to me.  The whole thing is beginning to feel a bit like a setup.'

Leo nodded.  'Or, more likely, a convenient opportunity for them.  We need to be careful, Raph.  Something isn't right, I can sense it.'

Raphael sprawled on the other side of the table and shrugged.  'Not much we can do about it until the fight, bro.  Today, next week.  Makes no difference.  They'll find someone they think can take me and I'll wipe the floor with their face.  Shell, maybe I'll get lucky and Saki himself will come out to play.'  

Leo's eyes narrowed.  'Don't even think it.  He'd snap you in half Raph and you know it.'

Raphael glowered but didn't deny it and Leo relaxed slightly.  'Besides, the day Saki stops hiding behind his cronies and picks up a sword, he's _mine_.'

Saki had voted pro-slave in the Great Council Meeting years ago - a pivotal vote that had divided the Clans and created a tense standoff between those who wanted to abolish slavery and those who had no desire to change from the old ways.  He'd then severed most ties with the allied territories and begun expanding his borders into areas that his people had no business claiming.  As a result, the Human Clans currently dominated the southern lands which bordered numerous Territories, including Terra.  While the Terrapin Clans still held strong against him, no territory was immune to the vicious raids carried out by Hun and his criminal following.  

Saki either ignored or deflected Council demands that he deal with the rogue raiders and everyone knew why.  Officially Hun was a rogue menace.  Unofficially Hun kept him supplied with slaves and put money in his treasury.  Occasionally the Clan Leader supplied a token force to 'assist' efforts to bring Hun to justice - but everyone knew it was just a token move to appease the Council.  Nobody was strong enough to challenge him yet ... but he wasn't strong enough to take on the entire allied Clans should the Council be roused to anger.  Relations where strained at best.

The emerald turtle grunted in sour acknowledgement of Leo's claim on Saki's head and then took the scroll the elder passed him.

'What's this?' he asked.

'A report from the south-east border.  There's been some trouble down there.  Sightings of humans that always seem to occur once our patrols have passed by.  Some of the smaller villages are getting nervous, they think they're being scouted.'

Raph scanned the document.  'I'm not surprised.  Damn raiders are pushing harder and further into the border every year.'  He looked up, anger burning in his eyes, crumpling the document in his fist.

'We gotta do something about this, Leo.  Every year those bastards tear off another strip and Saki chews up what's left.  You're gonna have to give me some men and let me clean out the border hills eventually.  Patrols aren't enough anymore - not when they're watching us, figuring out how to get between the defences.'  
    
The elder closed his eyes, gritting his jaw against the cold rage that began to rise when he thought about what was happening to the people under his protection.  Anger and frustration scented the room with a charged, bitter tang.  Raphael watched him with dangerous golden eyes, his brother's raw emotions lending a darker strength to the stormy tension.  Between the two of them it was easy to get drunk on rage, far too easy to let Alpha instincts reign until violence hovered a breath away from release.  It was simply part of what they were - primal natures and fierce territorial instincts reigned in by training and the upbringing that helped guide those desires into something protective, if no less volatile.  

Leo breathed deeply, pushing the air down into his centre, counting slowly and then exhaling more calmly.  Beside him Raphael did the same with a faint growl of frustration.  The elder focused on smoothing and re-rolling the crushed scroll until his nose told him they both had their tempers once more leashed and under control - an act of will which always took Raphael longer to achieve than himself.  They continued as if the temper spike had not occurred.

'Two Felidae Clan envoys arrived this morning requesting an audience at the Clan meeting next week.  If I can solidify the treaty with them it will strengthen our position and we'll have permission to ride into the border hills and clear out whatever raiders have set up base up there.  We'll need their help if we want to retake the area and keep it.'  he said calmly. Directly East of Terra were the Felidae territories, a cat people who had been trying to remain neutral in the slave debates without rousing the anger of the clans or attracting Saki's attention.  It was a balancing act destined to fail.  

Raphael nodded thoughtfully but his doubts were valid. He had never trusted the cats to stand against Saki's influence.  'You really think they're gonna sign the Bondage Agreements?  They've been neutral for the last three years - what makes you think they'll change their minds?  If they won't agree we can't exactly ally with em, bro.  Even if they're not sellin' they'd at least be buying.'

Leonardo nodded.  'I'm hoping they're starting to change their minds.  Some of the reports I've received indicate that remaining neutral hasn't protected them.  They've lost some of their outer villages in the last ten months.  Not many, but probably enough to give them a taste of what we're experiencing on this side.  If that doesn't motivate them to change their stance then nothing will.  With any luck they're here to discuss the subject and I won't have to bring it up.  I'd appreciate your support when I speak with them.'  

Raphael nodded.  'Of course.'

Leo paused thoughtfully.  'Bring him with you.'  It was clear who he meant by 'he'.

Raph shot his brother a dark look.  'You don't think its a bit soon for social events?'  

Leonardo stood smoothly and turned to hang his robe on a hook.  'It is.  You know I wouldn't normally ask but I think his presence would have an impact and this is important.  I could talk for hours but a visual reminder of what slaves endure after they're taken will communicate more than mere words to leaders who've never seen the results first-hand.'  

He turned as he slid powerful legs into the comfortable plain hakama he favoured.  

Raphael watched him thoughtfully, his eyes following the eldest's body as he slipped a deep blue kimono over a plain white undershirt, tying them neatly.  Finally, he nodded.

'I'll bring him but if he starts to freak out I'll get Mikey to take him out.  I don't want to scare him so soon.'  

Leonardo looked at him.  'Just an appearance would be enough.'

Raphael nodded grudgingly, unable to deny it was a good idea.   

Michelangelo chose that moment to slide the door open.  The smaller walked straight to Leo who raised his arm as the leaf-green terrapin settled beneath it, hugging into his plastron.  The two brothers glanced at each other before the blue-eyed turtle gave up his grip on Leo and flung himself down at the low table next to Raph.

'Well, he wasn't a pleasure slave,' he told them, looking slightly defeated.

'I could have told you that,' Raph said with a snort.  'Tenses up whenever I get too close.'

Mike shot him an unimpressed look.  'Like that means anything.   _Everyone_ tenses up when you get too close.'

The emerald turtle scowled but let the jab go.  'So did he tell you anything else?'

Mike shrugged.  'About what you can expect, which isn't much.  I had to pull out all the stops just to get his name and who knows if it's his real one or not.  At least its better than what they used to call him.'

Beside them Raphael frowned.  'Which was?' he demanded.

The smaller pursed his lips.  'Nothing worth repeating.'

Raphael bristled and Leo shot him a warning look, returning to sit beside Mikey.  

'Fine.  What do we call him then?' he asked impatiently, trying not to growl.

'Don.'  Mike told him, nesting his snout against Leo's shoulder with a sigh.

Leonardo considered it.  'It sounds like a fragment to me.  Probably just a partial of his full name.'

Raphael was watching Mikey, his gaze dark.  Both of them could now clearly smell the faint distress woven through the smaller's scent, an anxious sadness that provoked every protective feeling the two brothers had.  The emerald turtle glanced at his brother who shook his head imperceptibly.  Clearly, speaking with Don had stirred unpleasant memories for the small terrapin.

'Can't expect him to pour his heart out on the first day.'  Raph said gruffly.  'I'll see you two later.'  He trailed a comforting touch over Mikey's head and then stood to give the two some privacy, but his brother's soft voice made him pause at the door. 

'I've changed my mind. Leave the envoys to me. Take a patrol and check out the report, Raph.  Just recon, no fighting.'  The tone brooked no argument. 

Raph grunted.  'That'll take me at least a week.  Don's too weak to make a trip that rough.'  

Leo nodded, his arms enfolding Michelangelo until the smaller was cradled against his chest, snout pressed into the crook of the Alpha's neck where he could breathe Leo's comforting musk and feel the warm beat of his lover's strong heart against his face.  

'He's scared and he needs time to heal without fretting.'  Leo said quietly.  'Leave him here and Mikey can keep an eye on him while you're gone.  Be back in time for the Clan meeting.'

Raphael nodded, his gaze flicking over Mikey sadly and left on silent feet.    


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning dawned bright and clear.   Don stirred groggily and for a long, confused moment wondered if he was still dreaming before a fragile smile spread across his face.  It wasn't a dream ... he really was in this beautiful place.  The morning sun cast a golden glow over the pale stone walls and beyond the open window the forest stirred, birds calling out across the mountain.   For long moments he revelled in the warmth and the soft play of sunshine over his face and then realisation flooded him, a tingle of apprehension shooting up his spine.  The slave rolled over cautiously but he was alone in the large bed, the furs beside him undisturbed.  

Relieved, he made a trip to the privy and was standing there wondering what to do when Mikey showed up with breakfast, all smiles over a tray of steaming plates.  Distracted by the vacant ache in his belly, Don sat down to eat and try to follow Mikey's cheerful, rambling conversation, wondering nervously when Raphael would make an appearance.  The blue-eyed slave skipped over a handful of topics before saying something that caught his attention.

'Oh, and Raph's gone.'  Mikey commented suddenly around a mouthful of poached eggs.  'Leo sent him south to check on some trouble at the border, so you'll be hanging out with me all week.'  

Don nodded vaguely at the anticlimax.  The news unsettled him, creating an odd sense of displacement.  Being near the Alpha only added to his confusion but the surroundings seemed dimmer, as if those golden eyes had taken something with them.  It made no sense to him and he ate his breakfast slowly, allowing the tide of idle chatter to distract him from the uneasy sensation.

Belly full to aching once more Don found himself fading as Mike gathered up the plates.  Somehow the smaller had changed his bandages and bundled him back into bed before he'd really registered what was happening.  Hours later, he woke to find steaming soup and hot bread waiting for him, devouring the meal gratefully and crawling back to the safety of the furs that already smelled comforting and familiar.

The next few days passed in a warm blur.  True to Mikey's words, nothing was asked of him and he was mostly left to himself with nothing to do but rest.  For the first time in more years than he cared to count Don slept without fear, without the gnawing hunger he'd been accustomed to and rose only when his stomach demanded to be fed.  After living on the edge of exhaustion for so long his body went into overdrive, his appetite raging back to life as it used the abundance of fresh, healthy food to fuel healing and growth.  In the midst of such healing, sleep became an overwhelming, almost involuntary need and he passed most days deeply asleep.  Every now and then he jerked awake, heart pounding and bleary eyed, expecting to be cuffed or screamed at for sleeping past dawn, only to drift back into peaceful slumber once the adrenalin had settled.  Mike popped in and out to check on him - often with a plate of food or a warm drink but whenever Don's eyes began to droop he excused himself and disappeared to whatever tasks kept him busy.  

The smaller had promised to sit down and explain Don's circumstances in more detail but Leonardo had been busy with 'unexpected business' and hadn't had time to arrange his 'papers' - whatever that meant.  Don didn't mind.  He very deliberately did not think about what might happen when Raphael returned and focused on each simple pleasure as it came to him which wasn't hard with Mike as his companion.  

Don found himself helplessly drawn to Mike's free-spirited personality.  The small terrapin was almost always smiling and bouncing with energy.   There was something about him, a compelling charm that was difficult to resist, and an open honesty that tempted you to trust.  He didn't understand how Mike had come through his experiences with so much innocent joy left in his spirit.  If he were to believe what the blue-eyed turtle said it was largely the Clan Leader that had given him back his life and a reason to be happy, but the question remained ... what would high nobility want with a battered slave?  What could they possibly gain from associating with the most abused and sullied wretches in the land?  Leonardo, Lord over all the Terrapin Clans with an ex-slave whore as his lover?  He wanted to believe but the facts didn't match what he knew of the world, so he kept his mouth shut and waited for the truth to unravel on its own.  

On the fourth day the thought of crawling back into bed only made him restless.  He felt more alert and stronger than he had in years, as if the sleep and food had cleared away a lingering fog in his mind.  The only problem with that was that he was left with nothing to do but think about the uncertainty of his new position and what it might mean.  And yet, idling away an hour in the bathhouse left him wondering if anything in this place could possibly be worse than life under his previous owner.  

Ferona had been a difficult master, vain and bad at managing her money.  As a Felidae outcast - expelled from her traditional clans for crimes he'd never discovered, she made her living on the outer rim with others like her.  Outside of any clan ownership the Border Towns were dangerous places run by whichever gangs were strongest.  They were seedy, ugly places where slavery, prostitution, theft and smuggling thrived.  Less than 24 hours after Don had been sold off the auction blocks to a fat merchant, Ferona had won Don in a bet and so he'd gone from one possible future to another in the space of a few hours.  He didn't know which existence would have been more unbearable but at the time he'd been more afraid of the merchants black, piggy eyes and the long yellowed teeth pushing past plump lips.  Ferona in contrast, had seemed slightly exotic with her dappled, leopard spotted fur and notched ears.  She owned a small shop and survived supplying cheap tallow candles and oil lamps.  Don had spent most of his days locked in the tallow room with the boiling pots.  In summer the job had been torture.  The stink, the heat drying out his skin until his lips were cracking, the fumes and stench of boiling fat making him dizzy.   

The hard-bitten feline blew most of her profit on cheap jewellery and Opias, the drug she liked to smoke that was highly addictive and ultimately toxic.  That dappled fur was gradually falling out leaving her constantly scratching and looking patchy.  Her interest had been piqued as male terrapin had a certain reputation for being the best pleasure slaves, but when he'd done nothing but shrink away from her drunken petting and refused to service her she had flown into a humiliated rage and beat her pleasure out of him instead.  Even now the phantom memory of her paws rubbing impatiently at the hidden opening in his plastron, trying to wiggle inside and pull him out with those bony claws gave rise to sickening nausea.  Unable to afford the drugs it would take to stimulate him forcibly and unwilling to humiliate herself in a second attempt, it had been the first and last time Ferona tried to rape him.  Don was only grateful that his body offered some natural protection against her unwanted attention.  

The memories made him shudder and scrubbing his entire body fresh and tingling had become a morning ritual bordering on near-obsession.  As if he could scrub away all the places she had touched him, hurt him.  

 _Never again_ , he swore to himself, scrubbing a little harder.   

He had just dried himself off when Mike swept in and announced it was time for a tour around the castle grounds.  

'But you can't walk around like that without creating a scandal.'  Mike told him with a crafty grin.  Don flushed in shame but Mike grabbed his arm and all but dragged him back into Raph's rooms, presenting him with a medium sized chest.  It was simple in design but the wood was a beautiful, natural red, lovingly polished until the timber seemed to glow.  

'Open it!'  Mike told him impatiently.

Don opened it carefully.  Within was a gift that made him blink back tears ... clothes.  

 _Your_ clothes, Mikey told him, to keep no matter what.  They went through the folded items.  Comfortable hakama for everyday wear paired with kimono in the baggy, somewhat oversized style favoured by the terrapin - easy to move in, nice and loose over the shell.  He also found some warmer winter items, soft boots and woven grass sandals, all of it in fine quality cloth in simple colours and patterns that complemented his olive skin.

'It's all fairly standard but we can get you some nicer things when we go shopping.'  The smaller told him, wrinkling his snout at the plainish clothes.  Don couldn't imagine anything more.  The simple garments were the only thing he'd been able to call his own for a long time.  That made them priceless.  

Mike helped him dress, showing him how to pull the soft hakama trousers up over his tail and slip the fabric just beneath his shell.  When he pulled the ties around his waist they settled in the natural apex of his bridge as it arced over his hip.  A soft undershirt and heavier kimono went on next, folded in a certain, precise way and tied with a fabric belt.  They felt strange, hindering his movement in new ways but the cloth felt soft against his skin and smelled clean and fresh.  Such a simple thing to suddenly have and yet so precious.  Privacy.  Warmth.  The most basic of luxuries.  

'I don't know what to say ... '  he whispered thickly, standing in front of the long section of mirror Mike nudged him in front of.  

The terrapin staring back at him from the glass had wide, haunted brown eyes but looked so ... normal.  Perhaps too slender and gaunt but the folds of fabric hid most of that.  The only things left to mark his status were the bandages enfolding his wrists and the florid legacy of his last beating.  Thanks to regular applications of Mike's herbal goo the bruises were healing - still tender but nowhere near as painful as they had been.  He was left with the dark shadows on his skin, an impressive bloom of purples and browns that seemed all the more dramatic for his changed appearance.  And when those faded he would look like any of the servants he'd caught glimpses of during the last few days.  Nobody would look at him and see a slave anymore.  Don swallowed a hard lump of emotion and blinked hard.

'Thankyou,' he managed to say.

Mikey smiled crookedly.  'This is all coming out of Raph's pocket, not mine.'   

Don nodded, gritting his jaw and blinking hard as he felt the fabric against his arm.  It was much finer quality than he had ever seen before, but then it made sense that someone so high ranking  would dress his slaves well.  

'Shall we?'

Mike flashed him a smile full of approval and threaded an arm through his, leading him beyond the heavy wooden doors for the first time.  

* * *

The castle was old and beyond old, carefully maintained through generations of leaders by battalions of loyal servants.  Don was in awe wherever he looked, trying not to gawk even as he struggled to absorb the grandeur of the castle.  

They passed rooms painted with intricate designs in golden and scarlet paints, arches and columns carved with incredible detail as turtles fought fierce battles in tangles of weapons and flowers.  Gigantic vases loomed like swollen sentries in the corners, gilded with gold and large enough to hide inside, and the walls were adorned with vast tapestries portraying grand festivals, hidden treasures and blazing suns giving birth to molten dragons.

Two levels down the building came alive with activity as groups of castle servants hurried past on errands or trailed finely dressed officials moving about their business.  All lurched to a halt and nodded respectfully upon seeing the two walking terrapin and it wasn't until the two had passed that hushed, excited whispers drifted back to Don's ears.  He found himself clutching Mike's arm tightly and the smaller gave him a reassuring squeeze.  Gradually Don settled, lulled by the way Mike ignored the activity around them, filling the tour with light chatter.

Eventually they emerged onto the ground level and Don blinked in the sudden sunlight and then stopped, his breath catching.  

 _It was beautiful_   

The castle grounds were a fortified cluster of multi-level mansions with the main clan house built against and extensively carved into the wall of the mountainside - which explained the polished stone of the bathhouse and Raphael's rooms.  Out here, settled comfortably on the plateau were beautiful ancient buildings in traditional style.  Wide decks encircled each structure, connected by fine gravel pathways that wound through the expansive grounds.  Beneath their feet a large pond rippled out from under the timber decking into the gardens, the waters dark and dappled as fat koi stirred the lilies with lazy fins.  Ancient, weatherworn statues guarded the lotus blooms and took offerings of prayer from those who used the graceful arched bridges here and there.  

Beyond, Cherry Blossoms shaded the lush grass, thick with clouds of blooms and beyond that he saw an open paved courtyard, mossy with old stones that lead down a gentle slope through the main gate - huge, heavy wooden doors hinged onto a high stone wall with a watchtower of stone built atop it.  Instead of feeling ominous the walls seemed to enfold the entire plateau, protecting the timeless sense of this place from whatever may come.  When his eyes followed the road down the hill he saw the city of Terra stretching out, a welcoming sight bordered on most sides by earthy green forest and nestled against a river glittering in the distance.  Far to the south lay a line of green mountains looming distantly.  South, where Raphael had gone.  

'Home sweet home.'  Mike said quietly, taking a deep breath of appreciation.  He gave Don a moment to look around in awe before tugging again. 'C'mon.  Lemme show you around.'

They walked slowly around the grounds, Mike pointing out various buildings and their purpose.  A barracks where the Castle guards took meals and bunked.  The stables, managed by legions of younger boys under the direction of the surly stable manager.   A large, ornate reception hall where Clan meetings were held and more importantly the clan festivals when the whole town would be welcome to attend festivities and socialise.  Behind the barracks lay open training fields where terrapin warriors honed their skills on the lush grasses, sparring or performing gruelling exercises to increase their stamina and strength.

'Leo tries to get some training in with them all but he just doesn't have the time now that he's clan leader. He and Raph have their own dojo area where they practice most mornings.  I'll take you to see them train sometime, it's worth it if you can handle the early mornings.'  His clear grimace indicated otherwise. Don wasn't sure anything was worth getting up for early anymore, sleeping in was still such a new and appreciated luxury.

Don saw one of the guards nudge his companion and point in their direction and the smile faded.  For a long moment he felt an urge to turn and run.  Mike just waved casually and the two guards grinned and waved back before turning back to their training.  

'They're just recruits in training.  Most of them are sons of local families but alot of them were sent by their villages from further out.  They work here and send money back to their communities, find wives and when they get to a certain age move back to take over their family farms and local businesses.'

'What if they don't want to be warriors?'  Don asked softly.  

Mike shrugged.  'Most of them do - training in the Terran capital is a load more exciting to these village boys than staying on the farms and working the rice fields.'  He smiled a little sadly.  'In the end they get a taste of battle and realise it's not as glorious as they thought it would be and by the time their service is up they're happy to go back to a quieter life, get married and raise some kids.  They take their experience back to the villages and help keep an eye on things.  And if they really don't want to be here we can help them find work in town.'  He turned them back down one of the gravel pathways and they walked casually.  'Raph's done it for at least a handful that I know of.  Not everyone is suited for battle and he can't afford to have men he can't rely on at his back.'  

Don blinked, relaxing.  Everything was so ... fair.  Everyone had a purpose, fitting somewhere into this intricate network.  Nothing seemed forced, most people seemed to benefit from their situation or have options if they didn't.  It was inspiring, tempting that little kernel of hope that kept trying to bloom since he got here, and yet he couldn't help but wonder where he fit in with all of this.  Would he be given the same options?  These men were born and raised in Terra, they had families to back them and any number of opportunities.  Don had nothing but what he had already been given.  What was expected of him as a slave of such powerful people?   Don already understood that politics beyond his knowledge were part of this place.  On the surface, everything seemed to run smoothly, but beneath it were the real rules that governed lives.  What choices did he _really_ have?

On the way back to the main castle Mikey showed Don the kitchens where all the meals were prepared.  Don was surprised to find them a heavily guarded area.  Chefs spun knives at high speed while dumplings steamed and ramen simmered in savoury soups.  Mike stole them each a dumpling, braving an eye-popping stream of obscenities to grin at Don and yank them both out of range of a brandished cleaver.

Don flinched at the curses that followed them, understanding the implications if not the exact words.  'Is it really okay to make him so angry?'

Mike stuffed the dumpling in his mouth rebelliously and gave a few chews before hissing and blowing steam off his tongue.  

'He just got his revenge.  Besides he's a chef, they're born that way.'  He muttered sulkily, eyes watering.  

They finished eating their savoury, meaty snacks in the dojo, a large room lined with tatami mats where weapons of all size and description sat in racks against the walls.  It reminded him a little of Raphael's rooms.  It was built at the back of the main castle in a huge, well-lit room on the ground floor.  Golden light streamed through light shoji screens which opened onto a semicircular private courtyard carved into the side of the mountain.  An explosion of ferns continued from the edges of the paved stones to climb up the dark stone walls of the mountain creating a shaded grotto.  Mike pointed out a small pond at the far end of the grotto.  Next to the water was an ancient, worn stone covered in moss and wax drippings.  

'Leo loves to meditate here.'  Mike told him.  'He says in the peace and quiet he can be at one with "The bones of the mountain".'  He made a face.  'Whatever _that_ means.  Most of the time this place is empty unless they're training.'

'Do you train too?'  Don asked curiously.  

'When I can drag him out of bed.'  An amused voice answered in perfect common.

They both turned with a start to find the Clan leader standing in the dojo doorway, a faint smile on his face.

'Well you insist on training so _early_.'  Mike huffed.  

'That depends entirely on whether your idea of early is before breakfast or after midday, Michelangelo.'  

Mike snorted and mimicked Leo's tone.  'That depends entirely on whether your idea of breakfast is at regular hours or before the suns even up, _Leonardo_.'

Leonardo's eyes flashed with amusement but Don stared at the leader in shock.

'You - you speak common?' he blurted.

Leonardo nodded, coming to stand beside them as Don shot his blue-eyed companion an uncertain glance.

Mike hedged.  'Uh, I never actually _said_ Leo didn't speak common.  I said _most_ Terrans don't.'

Leonardo seemed to understand.  

'My father, Hamato Yoshi, always said that it's a leader's responsibility to know as much about his people as he can.  When I was young he made a point of including common in my education since so many of us have been scattered across the world.'  He explained.

Don averted his eyes.  'Then ... your brother can speak it too?' he hedged carefully.

Leonardo's smile faded a little.  'Raphael didn't have the same education as I.  He knows a few words but until you begin to re-learn Terran I'm afraid the two of you will have a hard time communicating.  Mikey can help you get started on that later today.'

Don dropped his eyes feeling oddly relieved to know the golden eyed Alpha had not been pretending.

The Clan Leader placed a reassuring hand on Don's shoulder, making him start a little.  'It was not our intent to deceive you,' he said quietly.  'You had been through so much, we simply wished to give you some time to adjust.'  He smiled gently.  'You seem much stronger already.  The rest has clearly done you good.'

Don found himself relaxing despite himself at the honest kindness in Leonardo's dark eyes, the confident quiet of his voice.  In combination with the Alphas scent - similar to Raphael's, yet unique in its own right, he began to feel the first stirrings that perhaps there really was no reason to be afraid.  

'Walk with me?'  The Leader asked.

Don nodded helplessly, caught in the strange spell of these powerful people in this powerful place.  Mike stayed glued to Don's side as Leo led them through the private gardens behind the castle, walking slowly so Don could look around as they moved.  A few levels above, the castle almost seemed to curve backwards to join with the cliff wall, creating this space beneath that was constantly shaded.  A giant, sheltered arch against the stone of the mountain wall.  Ferns, moss and ancient Willows still clung to the rock with stubborn, knotted trunks, their gnarled branches creating tunnels of draping tendrils over the gravel paths.  

'The castle is beautiful.'  Don offered hesitantly, gaining some courage.

Leo nodded, looking up at the carved roof terraces with their crouching dragon statues and lotus blossom plaques.

'It was built almost a thousand years ago when the first clans decided to settle here.  They united the terrapin families and became the first true leaders of our people.'

Don's curiosity and respect flourished.  That all this could have been built so long ago.  Everything was so lovingly tended, time had done nothing but settle this place more firmly into the hills until it had become part of the land itself, a place of age and strength and great beauty.  Feeling suddenly overwhelmed again, he stumbled on the path and must have looked as out-of-place as he felt because suddenly Mikey was gripping his arm with a worried smile.  Why was he here amongst these people?  Their wealth boggled the mind, their power scared him.  From the slave of a candle merchant to .. to what?  

'Donnie?'  Mike asked softly.  

Leo turned back in concern and now they were looking at him, their eyes meeting above his head as he struggled to speak, the words finally emerging as a faint whisper.

'Why am I here?  I don't - I don't understand.  I'm nothing.  I'm nobody.  What do you want from me?'

Leo's gaze was compassionate.  'My brother and I have dedicated our lives to trying to end slavery,  and yet for every step forward we seem to take two steps back.  Those who slip through the cracks end up like you and your family and no matter how many we save there are those we will never be able to free from their bondage.'  He paused for a moment, clearly troubled.  'But sometimes ... sometimes we stumble upon one of the few we failed to protect from our enemies and there's a chance to make it right.'  

Don stared at him, trying to reconcile Leonardo's clear regret with his fear that this was ultimately a terrible game.  The Clan Leader seemed to sense his confusion and gave a faintly sad smile that did nothing to hide the shadows in his eyes.  

'Let me show you.'

He waited for Don's awkward nod of assent and then turned.  They stepped onto the great timber boardwalks and Mike took the lead as Leo walked by Don's side, speaking softly.

'Many years ago, my father decided to make a stand against slavery.  The Great Council of the Allied Clans had only recently been formed; Sapien, Terrapin, Felidae, Leporidae - the ancient Samurai clans of the Rabbits, among many others.  He lobbied to make anti-slavery a condition of the alliance.  Unfortunately, he couldn't get many of the Clans to agree.  Too many of them had made slavery part of their economy and come to rely on free labour.  To completely ban the practice would have crippled them and so rather than become enemies of these nations, who were in all other ways peaceful, we formed the Bondage Agreements.'

Don knew about the allied clans.  Essentially it was a treaty encouraging peace and trade between the different races.  To attack a member of the alliance invited swift retribution from the full force of the allied clans.  It helped maintain stability by pooling the power and resources of the many to protect the weaker clans who might have suffered regular attack without their affiliations with the alliance.  A 'Bondage Agreement' was something he'd never heard before.

They paused as Mike slid open a large rice paper door and led them inside.

Don followed and stopped.  Books and scrolls, wall to wall and overflowing on various shelves in orderly chaos.  Boxes filled with more scrolls, stacks of paperwork on polished wooden desks, ink wells and the smell of parchment with a faint dusty tang.  A number of scribes worked diligently at one end of the room, standing and bowing respectfully at the clan leaders sudden appearance.  He acknowledged them with a dignified nod and lifted his hand inviting Don further into the room.  

'These are the Terran archives.'  The leader said.

'And _this_ is a Bondage Agreement.  Actually, it's yours.'  Mike finished, picking up a sheaf of papers on the closest desk and passing it to Don.  The script was delicately inked, the top layer written in Terran and while some of the symbols looked vaguely familiar he had no hope of reading it.  Beneath it was a copy written in Common.

'Do you need us to read it to you?'  Leonardo asked.  

Don hesitated and then decided to take a risk.  'I can read common.  I taught myself from things in my Master - my last master's house.'  Anything to take your mind off the stench of boiling fat in the long hours.  

'That's something at least - most of the slaves that come through have forgotten all their Terran and never learned to read in either language.'  Mike nudged him in encouragement and Don began to read.  They waited patiently while he read - and then re-read in confusion.

He could hardly believe it.  Don looked up from Mike to the Clan Leaders steady gaze with wide eyes, needing confirmation.  

'Is this _real_?'

'Yup.'  Mike grinned.  'Basically, you'll serve two years with Raph.  While you're with him you'll have everything you need provided for.  Clothes, food, medicine.  At the end of the two years you're 'officially free' and you'll get wages for the two years served plus help finding somewhere to live if you want it.  Hopefully you'll have some idea of what you want to do by the time the two years is up.  If not, you can always stay on longer until you figure it out - lots do.'

'Why would you go to all this trouble?'  he asked in disbelief, his voice hitching.  Paying slaves?  Giving them skills and then freeing them?  

Leonardo moved to the desk and gently plucked the document from Don's grip.  He then took a feathered pen from the inkwell and signed his name at the bottom of both documents.

'The first slaves my father freed were brought here and released without any thought given to what they would do with themselves,' he explained.  'It was an oversight that caused much suffering.  Those who had no other skills couldn't earn the money to improve their situation and so they turned to what they knew.  Prostitution ... thieving. You get the idea.  We quickly recognised that just freeing people wasn't enough.  We needed to give them back some of what had been taken - which means rebuilding a life, not just saving one.'

Don understood but he felt numb with shock.  Mike indicated a second signature, more slashy and less elegant than the first.

'That's Raph's as your 'Sponsor', Master - whatever you wanna call him.  You just have to sign next to his to say you agree.' he paused.  'Unless you really don't want to serve under him and then we can find you someone else.'  The expression in his eyes clearly indicated that he would be nuts to do it.

Don tried to accept what they were telling him, stunned by the power of the document.  Just a sheet of paper, yet it had the power to secure his freedom.  Did the written word really have this much strength?  It was intoxicating and it brought with it the realisation that in this world he could have a life - could learn and accomplish things - could dream of a future!  Sudden desperate hope infused him with the need for this to be real and he gripped the pen Mike handed him with tight fingers.

The quill shivered as his hands trembled, hovering over the parchment. Just by signing his entire world would change.  For two years he could stay - longer if he needed and then he would be free to go and do whatever he wanted.  Nobody had ever offered him a chance at a better life, let alone one with this much freedom.  He stared at the rough inky scrawl that was Raphael's signature, signed with foresight some time before the Alpha had left days ago.  The emerald turtle had taken him from a soulless existence, fed him, clothed him and given more careful consideration to Don's well being in the handful of hours they'd known each other than he'd had in his entire life.  Slowly and carefully the olive slave wrote out his full name next to the rough scrawl of his new Master.  

Mike handed him a second copy to sign and Don did so shakily.  The smaller turtle smiled as he read Don's signature and took the pen from him.

'I don't know what to say - I don't know how - I _never_ expected -.'  Don gripped the desk unsteadily.  'I have to thank him,' he said hoarsely as Mike squeezed his shoulder with a happy grin.

Leonardo took the signed documents, giving them a final look before carefully rolling one of the copies and tying it with a white ribbon.  His eyes were very, very serious as he handed it back to Don, but then he smiled and in that gentle gaze Don suddenly knew that everything would be alright.  

'Welcome home ... Donatello.'

 _Home._   


	5. Chapter 5

Other than his size the rider was nondescript, swathed in ragged, dusty black, a deep hood pulled low and dark. A dozen sets of eyes measured his arrival with calculated greed and then turned aside, losing interest. It was a well balanced disguise, with enough weapons strapped in plain sight to deter a casual robbery and not enough wealth on display to make a larger effort worth their while. Exactly how he wanted it. Raphael wove his horse between the rows of drab market stalls and melted into the ragged crowd.

Five years ago there'd been nothing but rocky scrub here and a few scrawny old goats. Something less than a town but more than a village had risen out of the dust, scraped together in the territorial limbo between Terran, Felidan and Sapien lands. Freeways they'd dubbed it. Raph found it damned depressing. These people weren't free … just pretending to be. He scanned the crowd as he moved. The majority were feline but there were frequent glimpses of broad shells and green skins. Runaways perhaps, or exiles. There was also a smaller human presence, their strange blunt faces easy to pick out amongst the crowd.

The further he went the more obvious it became just how many northern clans were here as well - bears, rabbits, even a few thin foxes and furtive, scrawny rats. He caught glimpses of slave tats and brothel brands, battle scars and hollow eyes. Escaped slaves from Saki's lands, gathered from across the known world. Poor bastards. They'd done well to get through the mountains alive but life in Freeways wouldn't be a massive improvement for most of them, and most had nowhere else to go. He made a mental note to inform the Council just how many of their people were sheltering here. It was the least he could do. Raph kept moving, heading for a labyrinth of back alleys and vanishing into the dank shadows between hunched houses.

Spike snorted unhappily and tossed his mane as they picked a path through the filth. Raph agreed, with a grimace of disgust. Here the gutters were simple shallow trenches scraped into the hard dirt. Crap, urine and random trash crusted here and there, festering in the humidity. Between the stench and the risk of cutthroats they moved quickly. More than one ragged local came to an abrupt halt at the sight of him and chose to detour down a side alley rather than risk a confrontation, which suited him just fine. As much as he enjoyed a good fight, Leo and Mike would need him back home soon.

Gangs of ragged kids scattered as he passed by, pausing simple games with sticks and rocks to find a safe distance. Grubby, thin faces and wild eyes watched him suspiciously. He passed without comment, trying not to notice how threadbare their clothes were, the bruises on small faces. His fists tightened over leather reins. Leo insisted that he couldn't save the world but it shouldn't be this way. These kids deserved so much better. Raph still remembered what it was like to play in the gutters amongst the trash.

No matter how far he'd risen, he knew he'd never forget.

Distracted and brooding, it was some time before he sensed the shadow at his back. He pulled up abruptly, ignoring Spike's aggravated snort. For a long moment he sat still and tense. Finally he relaxed with a muttered curse and turned his head to one side.

'Get your ass down here before I come up there and kick it,' he growled. For a few moments nothing moved and then a dark figure appeared at the edge of the building, hesitating briefly before leaping down to kneel in the dirt. The ninja pressed a fist to the flat of his open hand, held over the heart in formal salute.

'Paxiron,' Raph acknowledged with a sinking feeling. 'Cut that out, this ain't the time or place,' he glanced around uneasily. 'What the hell are you doing here? You had your orders - to finish the patrol and report home with the others.' Spike stamped in agreement, gnawing at the bit.

Paxiron stood and pulled his mask down to reveal a young face no more than seventeen. Viridian green with sharp grey eyes and a stubborn snout, in standard uniform. Stealthy black leather armour over black bindings, covered with a drab cloak he'd stolen to blend better in this dull town.

'I slipped away from the others to guard your back,' the young ninja told him recklessly. 'It's not right for you to be out here alone. Protecting you is my job.'

This kid. Defying Raph with every line of his body to send him back. Raphael silently cursed Leo for insisting he take Pax into his main squad. The kid was good but far more trouble than he was worth. Still so young and sure that he knew everything, could do anything, when the truth was Pax still had a lot to learn or he'd know by now that Raphael watched his own back, no matter how many men he rode with. He'd also know he was in deep shit.

'I don't need you out here, I need you with the others checking the border outposts,' he growled. 'So unless you've got a better reason for disobeying a direct order, turn your ass around and do as you were told. We'll talk about this when I get back.'

Paxiron looked up sharply at the flat dismissal, a calculating look in his eye.

'The others are long gone by now. Take me with you - I can help,' he insisted, adding more quietly. 'Forgive me, but won't Leo be upset? Everyone knows how much he hates it when you travel without an escort.'

 _Little smartass._ Raph kept a careful grip on his temper. Leo was gonna be ticked, there was no getting around that and he wasn't looking forward to the ass-kicking waiting for him at home, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle and Leo understood that out here at the edge of civilisation, one turtle could pass unnoticed where a dozen would attract unwanted attention. It was risky but Freeways harboured more than just thugs and thieves. There were sources of information here that he had no intention of sharing - which was exactly why he'd come alone.

'I don't need protecting and this ain't a negotiation. You wanna work with me I need to know you're gonna do as I say,' Raph told him, an edge in his voice that was dangerous to ignore.

Paxiron sensed his chance slipping away. The young terrapin made a low sound of frustration and stepped forward against Spike's sweaty neck urgently. 'Look, I'm sorry I disobeyed orders, but you know that all I've ever wanted was to fight by your side. Give me a chance to prove myself. Make me your right hand man and you'll never regret it,' he paused and murmured intently. 'I'm _yours_ , Raph.'

Raphael felt his temper falter at the rough caress of his name and the invitation in that final statement. Pax eased closer, his hand brushing his leader's thigh. The emerald terrapin blinked in sudden confusion as Paxiron's scent hit him like a punch in the gut, thick with the rich musk of lust. Raph gritted his teeth against a shocked hiss as his dick tried to go rock hard within his plastron, warning bells going off somewhere distantly as pure dominant instinct roared to the surface. Pax was studying him hungrily, a promise on those slightly parted lips that he could already taste.

 _Mine_ , his body tried to tell him savagely.

Training locked his muscles in place when instinct demanded he reach down and claim what was his, _push deep inside that tight young body until he squirms beneath you and chirps, squeals for more!_ \- _Goddammit!_ He scrambled internally for an anchor as the scent-storm triggered reflexes deep within his Alpha mind that raged to be satisfied. For a few wavering moments his control began to fragment … and then salvation came from the West - a gust of hot breeze that tore through the haze of pheromones, driving the hot stink of the alley before it. The moment ended as he drew a lungful of fetid air and felt the haze of his own need falter. Raphael gripped tight to the fragile thread of his control and told his dick to shut the hell up.

'That's what this is about? We've been over this before, kid.' He deserved a damn medal for how steady and bored he managed to sound.

Paxiron looked up at him more boldly, able to smell the effect he was having despite Raph's award-winning self control. 'I'm not a kid anymore. I know who I am and what I want.' He smiled triumphantly. 'And I _know_ you want me too, no matter what you say.'

Raphael ignored that statement, glancing around uneasily. There were too many nooks and crannies here, too many places for eavesdroppers to hide and Saki had agents everywhere. A throbbing headache was beginning just behind his eyes and his guts were starting to churn in the afterstink of unsatisfied lust and rotting garbage.

'There's a time and a place, Pax. This ain't it. You've got your orders and I've got work to do,' he growled hoarsely, pulling back. Pax resisted, his smile gone as his fingers gripped the coarse mane. Spike gave an angry squeal at the opposing forces and stood stiff legged as the two faced off. Raphael tensed and felt the first stirring of true anger.

'Tell me why,' Pax demanded. 'I've worked my ass off every day to be worthy of your personal squad. I could have joined the elites but I stayed to fight for Terra by your side. What else do I have to do for you to take me seriously?' the young warrior insisted, his voice beginning to rise with passionate frustration.

Enough. He had to deal with this now before it got more out of hand. Raphael dismounted in a hurry and shoved the young ninja back into the shadows of the overhanging rooftops. 'Keep your voice down!' he snapped. Pax subsided angrily and Raph tried to reign in his temper. This wasn't going to go away as easily as he'd hoped.

'You've done well,' he agreed. 'But you're also just a kid.'

Grey eyes flashed. 'I haven't been a kid since the day my parents were slaughtered in front of me.' Pax snapped fiercely.

Raph grit his teeth. Damned if the brat didn't remind him of himself more than he liked to admit. 'You've been through a hell of alot. More than anyone should ever have to deal with,' he acknowledged darkly. 'But you're only seventeen and even if I was the kind to take advantage of you, which I'm _not,_ ' he ground out. 'You're smart enough to realise that your father's position would make it impossible.'

Pax's fierce eyes turned dark and bitter. 'You mean my _adopted_ father,' he bit off unhappily. 'You can't blame _me_ for his political views when I have no say in any of the family matters -.'

'Enough,' Raph growled and Pax cut off. The young ninja was breathing hard, his clenched fists trembling. This was better. Raph managed to relax a little as his head began to clear and his body eased. Anger was easier to deal with, smothering the earlier promise of sex with the acrid bite of aggression. The Alpha could ignore his aching dick as long as he stayed downwind of the strange intensity in Pax's scent.

'Course I don't blame you, but it doesn't change anything and you know it,' Raph told him more calmly. 'Your father's always looking for a way to shame my brother. I'm not about to hand him a reason by touching his heir.'

Paxiron stared at the ground, fists clenched, hurt, anger and frustration warring for dominance on his face. It wasn't a good mix. Raphael sighed roughly. If things were different he'd have been flattered and maybe even tempted, but what Pax had in mind was a bad idea for more reasons than he could count.

'Look ... Pax,' he growled softly. 'First off, I got responsibilities, it ain't as simple as you think it is. Second of all, I don't know what kinda rumours you hear about me but I don't sleep around. It ain't personal. You're a good kid and a good ninja but this thing you want with me will never happen.'

Pax looked up, something reckless in his eyes. 'They say you have dozens of partners, that it's someone different every night,' he dared wildly, trying to move in closer and kiss his leader.

Raphael grabbed a handful of uniform and shoved the young terrapin back again in disbelief. 'They say a lot of things, you really stupid enough to believe em all?' he grated harshly. 'This ends now.'

Pax glared at him in humiliation, anger twisting his mouth into a bitter sneer. 'So that's why you brought that skinny slave back from the last battle? They're all saying it you know - that the Hamato's are hypocrites, preaching about slavery while Leo fucks that bondage whore and now you're no different -'

Raphael Hamato's temper was legendary but even Pax was unprepared for the reality of pushing his leader too far. The emerald turtle was on him in an instant. They crashed up against the side of a shale house with enough force to dent the structure and dislodge a cascade of stones. Dust billowed around them as they skidded in the debris but Pax could only hold on as two great fists pinned him to the wall and blazing golden eyes filled his vision.

'That's what you think, huh? That I'd turn a slave into my own personal fuck toy?!' he snarled viciously. 'I _don't_ touch victims of abuse you little shit and neither does my brother. Mikey's past is none of your fucking business and if you say one more word about Leo you'll be eatin' through a straw the rest of your short life.'

Pax wheezed in panic but the emerald turtle wasn't finished, his voice dropping to a deadly growl.

' _I don't fuck around with my men._ Or punk kids who who can't think past the end of their dicks.' Pax strained against him, choking desperately.

For long moments Raphael fought the desire to wait until the little brat squeaked and turned blue ... but the haze of rage gradually receded and he released the smaller terrapin in disgust. Pax sagged awkwardly into the debris, realisation and a dawning panic in his grey eyes at the staggering depth of his miscalculation. He scrambled unsteadily to his feet as Raph turned away.

'Raph, please - I'm sorry! I didn't mean - I was angry but I don't actually _think_ that -,' he wheezed in distress, groping for a way to make it right even though it was far too late. Raph ignored him, still too enraged to trust himself and put some careful distance between them, remounting sharply.

'Get out of my sight,' Raph told him darkly. 'If I have to tell you again, it'll be the last order I ever give you.'

Pax nodded, stricken. Within moments he'd scaled the nearest building and was gone.

Raph waited until he knew he was truly alone, his hands clenched on the reins in a white-knuckled death-grip. Leo's exercises came unbidden and he drew a deep, slow breath trying to calm the Alpha within. Pax's comments were probably something he'd heard his father say rather than something he'd come up with on his own but it stung anyway. They either hated him or wanted to fuck him, sometimes both, but none of it meant anything, it was only ever a way of tasting power or getting closer to Leo who had the same issues on a larger scale.

He was tired of the games, all the hidden agendas and the limp-dicks who couldn't handle it when he said no, spreading rumours that only made everything worse. And Don - Leo had warned him this would happen, that the assumptions and rumours would spread quickly, but the reality enraged him. That they actually thought him so low, he'd save someone just for a screw. He clenched his fists again and breathed through the desire to destroy something, feeling sick to his stomach. Little Don, beaten and so starved he'd trembled at the mere sight of food. Damn Leo and his stupid exercises, they weren't nearly enough to calm him down after that bullshit. In explosive rage he turned and smashed his fist through the wall of the closest hovel, gratified and disgusted as the fragile wall shuddered and collapsed into mounds of stone. Spike shied away as dust and pebbles flew.

It didn't help and his bleeding knuckles just made him feel childish. With a snarl Raph booted Spike away from the scene before people came to investigate the damaged structures. It had been a while since someone had the stones to give him a look that hungry let alone an outright proposition. The worst part was he couldn't deny the strength of his own reaction - it had been on the edge of his ability to resist and that had never happened before. It wasn't right and there was a familiar quality to it that gave him a bad feeling. Sometimes young males gave off powerful signals for sex as they went through their first few seasons and Raph had sensed Pax's musky interest every now and then - but he'd made it a point not to offer any false hope. It would never happen. Paxiron was older than his years but Raph still remembered the day they'd met, one child among the few ragged survivors on a day of savagery and rescue come far too late. He'd always tried to keep an eye out for the kid but this had changed things. He scowled, shifting uncomfortably in the saddle.

Something to deal with when he got back, before it got anymore out of control.

Leo was a jealous brother in more ways than one.

Raph pulled up at a larger building more sturdy than the others. His knock was met with an unfriendly eye as the door cracked open a few inches.

'Yeah?' The eye demanded.

Raph gave it a look of equal hostility. 'I'm here to see Jones.'

The eye blinked suspiciously.

'Whose askin'?'

Raph gave him a feral smile laced with black humour.

'An old friend.'

* * *

Don was happy, for the first time in a couple of days they were sitting together in the open living area that connected Raphael and Leo's suites. Don liked it most out of all the rooms he'd seen, in part because it was strangely the least fancy part of the entire castle, furnished more for relaxation than any unnecessary pomp. The cushions were colourful but somewhat faded and comfy, and the large, low table was even starting to look a little battered. The best part was the view, great carved windows with solid shutters opening out over the entire valley. Rain made the scene hazy, a drizzle that had begun two days ago and seemed to be increasing in strength. It was peaceful. Up away from the bustle and prying eyes of the courtiers, servants and samurai. Not even the guards or servants were allowed on this level without express permission and that meant Leo could let his guard down, or at least as much as Don figured the young leader ever seemed to.

Mike had been giving Don a lesson in Terran lore. Spread across the table before them was a chaotic mass of parchments. Some were maps, others contained information about each of The Thirteen Families - the most influential terrapin clans in Terra. Or as Mike liked to call them, The Thirteen Headaches. At first the sheer volume of everything he needed to learn was overwhelming but as time passed Don found himself enjoying the process. Each piece of information had its own significance and slotted neatly into his memory, easily recalled and integrated into the informational map of Terra gradually taking shape in his mind. Part of him was getting a little impatient with Mike's simple memory drills which clearly bored his blue-eyed friend to tears.

'Okay, run through what you remember of the Thirteen,' Mike suggested, smothering a yawn and gathering the papers into a bundle.

Don quickly organised his thoughts into a logical sequence. He began by listing the families by the strength of their allegiance to Leonardo's position, describing the chief family members, their heirs, the associated clan crest, main estate locations and main affiliations with the other families, going through each one as efficiently as possible. Mike only grew more agitated as Don talked. His brow gradually crawled up his forehead into a sharp pyramid until his expression was almost painful to look at.

'Did I make a mistake?' Don asked when he was done. He ran through it again in his head, fairly sure it was all in order. Mike's brows crashed into a peeved stare of long-suffering forbearance.

'A mistake? Are you kidding me?' the blue eyed turtle demanded, mashing a cheek on his fist as he leaned against the table and threw out his free hand expansively. 'When did I give you this stuff, Donnie?' he asked pointedly.

Don frowned. The answer was obvious. 'Yesterday morning.'

Mike slapped his hand down on the papers hard enough to make Don jump. Leo looked up with a raised eyebrow. 'Don, do you _know_ how long it took me to learn this?' he demanded sourly. 'Weeks! Months even! Endless hours of tedious boredom. It was torture! It almost killed me! You seriously memorised all this in _two days_?! What. The. _Fu -_ '

'Mikey,' Leo interrupted sharply.

Michelangelo made another face but Don sat very still, thinking quickly. This was new. It had never occurred to him that he might stand out in some way. There had never been a chance to compare himself to anyone else until now.

Mike was giving Leo a sheepish grin as the latter gave him a subtle frown of displeasure.

'Have I done something wrong?' Don asked apprehensively.

Leonardo gave Don his full attention. 'You're learning fast. Very fast. It's a good thing Don, just not ... usual.'

Don wasn't certain he found the implications positive. 'You make it sound like I'm different somehow.'

'Different doesn't necessarily mean bad,' Leo replied, glancing at his lover. 'Mikey would have learned it all a lot faster if he didn't keep sneaking off to hang out with Raph all the time and get into trouble.'

'Trouble?! Me? How rude.' Mike sniffed and folded his arms with false dignity.

Leo's eyes narrowed slightly. 'As I recall, the two of you almost caused a riot at that wrestling bar in town and came home so drunk you couldn't get up the stairs. The temple priests found you snoring inside the Urn of Sacred Dawn the next day, though how you got in there is beyond me since Raph swears he didn't do it.'

Michelangelo's face lit up with nostalgic delight and not a hint of shame. 'Now _that_ was an amazing night.'

Leo's eyes narrowed further. 'I thought you didn't remember any of it?'

Mike tapped his chin thoughtfully. 'I'm a little hazy on the details but Raph said it was awesome and I believe him.' He smiled impudently.

'Not for the servant who had to clean the urn, Mikey,' Leo told him dryly. The leader winced. 'I still get _looks_ from High Priest Ikoru whenever I go in there.'

'Oh come on, that thing needed cleaning years before I threw up in there,' Mike insisted. 'Unless they considered five inches of dust and someone's old shoe to be sacred it was about time they had an excuse to do it properly.' Mike grinned at Leo's low sound of forbearance and leaned over to whisper conspiratorially in Don's ear. 'He's just jealous he wasn't there.'

Leo turned back to his scrolls with a dignified clearing of his throat but they both distinctly heard him mutter under his breath. 'Who wouldn't be?'

Mike gave Don a look that said _I told you so_ and Don had to smother a smile behind his hand. Leo and Mike's relationship was something complex, with layers of subtlety that Don knew he didn't yet completely understand, but when they got together like this sometimes Don started to forget just who they were. Like that day in the baths when a battered slave had forgotten himself and romped with kings, or something close to it. Don gave a shy smile as Mike grinned at him.

'Take Don down to the archives later. Tell them I give him permission to read whatever he wants,' Leo added without looking up. 'I have a feeling he'll find what he needs down there.'

Mike glanced at Don. 'Good idea. There's some stuff down there that might help you learn Terran,' he mused.

Don felt a surge of heady excitement. The thought of exploring that huge room and the vast expanse of knowledge there made his heart race giddily. He thirsted to know more, but more of what he couldn't say exactly. Just as much as he could, about everything. The way he'd been learning was like a trickle of water, when what he wanted was a river to slake his burning thirst. He looked down at his hands, curling them into loose fists. The power to find his own answers was tantalising.

A soft comment from the guard below made them all look up. Leo stood to receive a dark figure who walked up the stairs and pulled his mask down as he was signaled into the leaders presence. Don stared. He was dressed like no other guard he'd seen, completely in black, gleaming leather armour guards on both arms and legs, secured over dark wrappings rather than pants. A wide leather belt fixed with numerous pouches spanned his waist, twin swords secured tightly to the back of his shell. He moved deliberately, each step somehow precise and smooth. It reminded him of how Leo moved but somehow this was intimidating rather than graceful. Don shivered a little, remembering. He had seen them on the battlefield through the haze of his shock. Murderous nightmares come alive in glimpses of shadow, steel and blood. Ninja. But this one was so young, still just a teenager. He stared, fascinated.

'Master.' The young ninja saluted from one knee looking nervous and unhappy.

'Paxiron. I take it this means my brother will be arriving shortly?' Leo asked neutrally.

The ninja winced, his gaze on the floor. 'We patrolled close to the south eastern border and left Lord Raphael there alone on his orders. He crossed into Freeways and disappeared into the warrens. Our patrol continued on as he instructed, encountered no trouble and got back a few minutes ago. I don't know when he intends to return.'

Leo was silent but they all sensed the rising tension.

Paxiron tried to explain. 'I tried to follow but he sensed my presence and ordered me to rejoin the others,' he hesitated, obviously struggling for words. 'I-I made a mistake. I disobeyed direct orders. He was very angry with me.'

'I see.' Just two words, yet for Paxiron's reaction they could have been blows. His head bowed, his hands clenching into fists against the floor.

'Forgive me. You asked me to watch his back and I failed you,' he said roughly.

For long moments they all sat in silence, waiting to see what Leo would do or say. Don wondered what the mistake could have been but Leonardo did not question it. Don watched Paxiron sweating beneath the weight of Leo's gaze and was thankful he'd never had to do the same. When the Clan Leader did speak his voice was edged with a subtle warning.

'We all make mistakes, Pax. Learn from them quickly, I'd rather not lose you to foolishness. Or my brother's temper.' He waved a hand dismissively as Pax wilted in relief. 'Your father was here earlier. I believe he's waiting for you at the Dancing Dragon. Get some rest.'

Paxiron bowed at the dismissal. As he straightened his gaze connected with Don's. Surprise and recognition flashed across his young face, quickly followed by a narrow-eyed glare. Then he was gone as silently as he had come, leaving Don confused, his heart thumping. He knew resentment when he saw it.

'Why does Raph do this when he knows how much it upsets you? Does he just get a kick out of watching you lose your temper?' Mike asked dubiously.

Leo looked back at him with grim humour. 'Sometimes I think that's exactly why he does it.'

Don looked from one to the other almost swallowing his question, but they had told him he could always ask even if he would not always get an answer. 'Forgive me, but who was that?'

Leo responded automatically, his focus turned inward and pensive.

'Paxiron Takashiru. Seventeen years old and heir to the Takashiru Clan fortune.'

Don frowned. 'But the Takashiru's have no heir. The file says they lost their only son when he was three.'

Leo glanced at him in surprise and approval. 'You're right. The child died from the Shell-Flaking Disease and they've never managed to have any others. What the file should say is that Pax is his adopted child. Eight years ago there was a raid on one of our western villages by slavers. It took three days but eventually Raph caught up with them. There were six orphaned kids amongst the prisoners and Paxiron was among them - his parents were killed in the fighting and he had no other relatives, so when the Takashiru's offered to bring him into their family we gave our approval. In his eyes Raph saved him from a fate worse than death - he started training as soon as we'd let him through the doors. He's an exceptional ninja, completely dedicated, even if he still screws it up sometimes,' he said wryly. 'But he's still young and underestimating my brother is never a good idea.'

'He's been crushing on Raph for years,' Mike added, sliding one of the parchments towards Don as Leonardo's jaw ticked. The symbol was a phoenix in flames gripping a sword in one claw and a calligraphy brush in the other. 'The Takashiru's are uh ... kind of a pain in the ass. If there's any trouble between the Thirteen they're generally involved in some way.'

Don considered what they'd told him but there was still no clear connection with the glare thrown his way. It made no sense … unless Mike was right about Paxiron's 'crush' which implied the boy thought Don was some kind of rival. It didn't seem logical since he'd barely spent more than a few scant hours in Raphael's company, but then that was more than most got with one of the most powerful terrapin in the realm and the speculation would only get worse when his benefactor returned. It was bound to cause problems, they'd warned him as much. Aside from that, the exchange had offered more immediately relevant information. Raphael hadn't yet returned and that meant there was still time. A nervous lump that had been churning in his stomach all day began to ease.

'Does he do this often? Traveling without guards?' he asked.

Mike glanced at Leo who was looking out the windows at the rain that had grown heavier as they'd been speaking.

'Often enough to make us worry, but he'll be okay. He's used to looking out for himself.' But Mike's smile seemed a little forced.

Leo turned away from the rain and even Don could see that he was frustrated. It was the first real crack he'd seen in Leo's composure. 'It's difficult to infiltrate human lands but we can't afford to be blind to their movements. Raph has agents in the south that trust nobody but him. We pay them well to keep an eye on our enemies. Having said that, he's not supposed to just disappear.' He let the reports in his hand fall to the table with a slap. 'But if I had a gold coin for every time he's done something he's not supposed to, I could probably buy Terra five times over.' He paused, visibly calming himself. 'Still. If he received word that one of his contacts wanted to meet, there wasn't much choice. Their leader Oroku Saki has a personal interest in exterminating us. If he gets the opportunity, he'll strike. We can't afford to give him that opportunity.'

Don pulled his kimono tighter around himself, unable to doubt the truth from Leonardo's lips. 'What's stopping him?'

Mike pointed out the window towards the mountain range. 'There aren't many safe passes big enough to fit an army through those ranges and those are protected by fortifications which would churn an army into little pieces. Unfortunately, Felidae aren't as efficient at protecting their borders. Sometimes raiders sneak through on the cat's side. Raph's patrols keep them from gaining a foothold in our own territory, but without the cooperation of the cats it's impossible to stop them getting through the border sometimes.' He said soberly.

'So, Terra is relatively safe as long as this Oroku Saki can't bring any reasonable sized force through the mountains?' Don asked for clarification.

Mike nodded and then glanced at Leo. The leader studied Don for a long moment and then nodded at his lover as if giving permission. Mike cleared his throat and continued with an overbright joviality. 'Well, as long as Felidae doesn't ally with the humans and just let them through the mountains on their side. And of course they might not be able to bring soldiers through our mountain passes en masse, but he's pretty good at getting his ninja through. So you know, there's always the ever-present risk of poisoning, evisceration, stabbing, strangling, throat slitting and my personal favourite, decapitation by murderous assassins. Those kinds of attacks are a little bit harder to see coming but you get used to sleeping light and in no time at all we'll have you trained up and it won't be such a big deal anymore. Nope. Ninja assassins … piece of cake.' Mike came to a limping finish at the aghast look on Don's face and Leo's incredulous glare.

'Mikey! Was it really necessary to go that far?' Leo demanded.

Mike shrugged, looking unrepentant. 'Face it Leo, he has to know what he's getting himself into. Sugar coating it isn't going to help and this is still better than how _I_ found out.' Leonardo drew back, something nakedly painful flashing across his face.

'You've been spending _far_ too much time with Raph,' the leader told him unhappily.

Mike bounced to his feet and marched over to his lover. 'Some things aren't worth finding out the hard way, Leo. I'm sure Donnie appreciates that you want to protect him but he needs to make a decision, and he can't do that if you're all 'Let's give him the kiddy version so he doesn't freak out!',' he ranted, eyes flashing with rare temper. 'It's not the kind of news that improves with age. At least he won't be walking around in La-la land thinking everything is rainbows and bean buns until the truth comes at him with a knife!' Don blinked at the exchange, quietly wishing he could sink into the floor. Clearly, there was some previous history here that was still a sore point between them.

Leo glanced at the confused and embarrassed witness to their tiff and swallowed the frustrated growl in the back of his throat. Mike was still glaring at him, his blue eyes bright and defiant and sexy. He turned away instead, working through his emotions. Mike's ability to shelve their social stations and stand up to him was one of the qualities he valued most. There were enough sycophants in his life, and when Raph wasn't around to deal out raw, unadulterated truth, he needed his lover to challenge him. The two of them kept him grounded, kept him sane. And so as frustrating as it could sometimes be … Leo was grateful for it. Mike was right. They'd been through this once before and not-knowing had caused far more harm than good.

'You know I'm right,' Mike told the Alpha's shell, folding his arms stubbornly. 'Two thousand yen says Raph tries to tell him within the first week back anyway. You know how he feels about the price on your heads.'

Leo sighed at the undeniable logic of that and turned back. 'That's not a bet I'm prepared to take since you're probably right,' he admitted more calmly.

Don blinked as the tension completely evaporated at that admission. Mike was like that. Don wondered if he was even capable of holding a grudge.

'I'm always right. Or mostly right. Which _is_ why you keep me around, after all. Well that and my stunning charisma.' He quipped smartly, the mischief back in his smile.

But when he looked at Don the smile faded, and it seemed to Donatello that Mikey wanted him to really consider what he was hearing. 

Don thought he understood. Leo didn't want to scare him so soon, but Mike didn't want him to fall any deeper in love with this place without understanding what he was really choosing.

This was no game.

Assassins had come in the past and would come again. Don realised that even now, just sitting here, there was risk. How did they do it every day? Never knowing if danger was just around the corner or waiting to find them in their sleep?

'Better to know, right Donnie?' Mike prompted softly.

Don nodded slowly, his mind racing. Knowing the truth wasn't fun, but it was better than walking around ignorant when an attack could happen at any time. Despite the danger, Leo and Mike didn't seem to live in fear. They were aware of it and prepared to defend themselves ... and life went on. He found himself flooded with admiration for everything they faced with so much courage. Especially Mikey who had chosen this life at Leo's side when that made him one of the biggest targets of all.

Don picked up the parchment pertaining to the Human lands. The Oroku Clan went back almost as far as the Hamatos. Notes on the side of the page indicated it was they who had begun to traffic in people, pushing the slave trade far and wide. The information in his hands blurred slightly and he blinked hard. The Oroku Clan had taken so much from him, but at least now he had hope. How many others would never be as lucky as Don and would live out their hopeless, miserable days in chains beneath a whip? Something dark and powerful stirred in his chest.

The slave trade was a disease. A sickness Leo and his family had been doing their best to stamp out. Don was beginning to appreciate why Mikey had made his choice despite the risks. Don's life had been meaningless. Now he had not just a future, but a chance to be part of something greater if he was willing to face the danger. Looking over his shoulder was something he was already used to, and this … this right now with Leo and Mike was worth more than anything he'd ever had. It was the closest thing to a sense of family he'd ever felt and if that wasn't worth fighting for, what was? Now that he had something so precious within reach, nothing was going to take it from him, not fear and not threats. If they could face each day with the courage to keep fighting for a better world, then so could he.

Don put the parchment down with careful deliberation as Leo knelt before him.

'If there is a decision to be made, the question needs to be asked. You know enough to make a choice now Don, and maybe it's better you make it before Raphael returns,' the Clan Leader asked him formally. 'What do you want, Donatello? To stay with us and learn to fight? Or find a new home where you can live freely and without fear? After everything you've been through there's no shame in choosing a quiet life.'

If Leonardo's expression was carefully neutral, Mike's was a saucer-eyed vision of pleading innocence that almost had Don blinking back gratified tears. He took a steadying breath.

There was no decision to make. Not really.

Raphael would return eventually and before that he had work to do.

A relieved grin lit up Mike's face at the dawning determination in Don's eyes.

'What do I want? I want … lunch. Then I want to see the archives.' He smiled and Mikey's wild whoop of victory echoed halfway down the mountainside.

* * *

The Dancing Dragon was an Inn frequently used by the upper classes in Terra. Pax knew it well enough not to bother with the front door. He simply leapt over the rooftops and slipped in through the window of the suite his family always rented when they were in town. A severe middle-aged Terran was waiting for him, hands clasped patiently within the sleeves of his ornate kimono. Kiyoshi, the patriarch of the Takashiru Clan. He had the kind of face only a mother could love, mottled with the scaly scars of one who has survived the shell-flaking disease. The old turtle was larger than most alphas could boast, his shell huge and ridged with rows of uneven bumps and points that only added to his aura of power. Pax had never met someone whose appearance so closely matched his personality before.

'And so?'

Pax pulled a half-empty vial of cloudy white liquid from his belt pouch and placed it on the table between them with a sharp bang. 'I failed. This stuff didn't work like you said it would.'

'Explain.' Kiyoshi rumbled, watching him with those unblinking black eyes.

Pax stripped off his gloves in frustration. 'You said it would affect _him_ more than me, but after I splashed it on I couldn't think straight. All it did was make me act like a complete idiot. I'll be lucky if he ever talks to me again.' The thought made his chest clench in pain.

'Interesting. We did not take your sexual naivety into account. Perhaps that was an oversight on my part. I imagine the next few hours were somewhat uncomfortable for you.' Kiyoshi gave him a reptilian smile, coldly amused. Pax glared back. He didn't need a reminder of the humiliating hours he'd spent sweating in abject misery, wondering if his dick was going to fall off or if he'd die from the pain first.

'Still, a scent-based version of this drug would be a powerful weapon. Did it have any effect on him at all? Is it worth trying again in this form?' Kiyoshi demanded thoughtfully.

Pax shook his head in agitation. 'For a moment I thought maybe - but between the wind and everything else he resisted the effects. The setting wasn't exactly perfect but I don't think this stuff is as powerful as you say it is. Not powerful enough to work on _him_ , anyway.'

'The _setting_? I get the feeling you aren't taking this seriously yourself, Paxiron. Trust me, had it worked the effect on him would have been spectacular to witness. You haven't seen suffering until you've seen an Alpha overdose on Saffras. But then you knew it would hurt him, didn't you. I'm not convinced you didn't screw this up out of some misguided attempt to protect your little crush.'

Pax shot him a glare. 'I told you I tried. You think it was easy getting close enough to test it? Even then, he got a face full and barely bat an eye. Why don't _you_ test it out and see how far you get with him if you're so sure it works.'

It was then the angry crackle of Kiyoshi's temper began to roll through the room, an acrid taste that had Pax swallowing reflexively. 'Don't get smart with me, boy. I gave you your name and I can just as easily take it away,' the patriarch growled ominously.

For long moments they stood in silence, Pax staring at the tatami as Kiyoshi's gaze bored into the side of his head.

'I've - I've been thinking,' Pax finally said, his voice thick. 'I know you've got these big plans for the family ... but Raph hasn't done anything wrong and when I think about it - Leo hasn't either. They're good people. They care about everyone, not like other Clan Leaders you hear about in the history books who cared more about money and land. I don't understand why you hate them so much.'

Kiyoshi's eyes glittered. 'Hate? It's nothing so personal, boy. It is simply the way the game of power is played. If my plans are to go smoothly I need them both out of the way, one way or the other. Leonardo is strong but without his brother he'll be weakened and the throne will be free for the taking. I've done enough scraping and bowing to the Hamatos for one lifetime. I've paid my dues. I've _earned_ my time in the sun and if you want to stay my heir with all the privilege that entails, you're going to help me.'

'I don't - I don't think I can do this,' Pax admitted, his eyes tortured. 'I owe him everything. I wouldn't even _be_ here if it wasn't for him. He saved my life.'

Kiyoshi's anger was a palpable force. 'And _I_ gave you a future. _I_ took you in. Fed you, educated you, put a sword in your hand and gave you a name and not just _any_ name. My family has been one of the Thirteen for centuries. You were a village brat and I chose you. Not just to stand at my side but to raise us up, to put our family at the head of all others. And you have the gall to come in here sniveling like you owe him more than you owe _me_? Spare me your childish regurgitated notions of honour, boy,' the patriarch hissed.

'You're asking me to betray the only person I've ever loved!' Pax snarled back.

'Love? Foolishness. The most you'll get out of that one is pity. Why else do you think we're testing these drugs? For fun?' Kiyoshi chuckled scathingly. 'Even if he deigns to look at you twice, Leonardo would never allow it to go further. He guards his brother's bed as jealously as his lovers. Did you think this plan led to some kind of house on the hill? This is about leverage, boy.'

'You're wrong. Raph cares and I know he wants me, he just has too much honour to admit it. If I could just get him to stop seeing me as a kid I know it could change everything,' Pax managed defiantly, ignoring the angry tears burning in his eyes.

Kiyoshi began a slow circle of his adopted son. 'You were just up at the castle. The rumours say that olive slave he claimed is something rather special. Some say he's already paid for his freedom with that pretty flesh. Tell me, is he as beautiful as the servants claim?'

Pax burned with jealousy at that, his body vibrating with emotion. It was true that Don had something special about him. A week of good food and care had already changed him for the better - but if there was one thing he knew it was that the rumours _weren't_ true. He still had the bruises on his throat to prove it. But his father wasn't finished with his cutting observations.

'If Raphael cares about you so much, how come he never offered to take you in as well? How come you're here with me and not there in that slaves place. Sleeping in Raphael's rooms, I'm told. In his _bed_. Walking the castle as if he owns it already, attended by Leonardo's whore.'

Pax flinched but couldn't deny it. For Michelangelo to take the slave on-side showed Leonardo's support and the castle servants were all abuzz at Don's occupation of Raph's room. It touched a nerve that had been sore ever since that day on the battlefield, as the rumours spread like wildfire and he could only wonder how some random turtle could be so lucky. Like he could only wish to be.

'I was never a slave. It's not the same,' he insisted, groping for the truth.

'Oh I think it's exactly the same. No boy. The likes of the Hamatos are not for you and the sooner you realise it, the stronger you'll be.' Kiyoshi turned away.

'He's not one of them, he's like me, everyone knows it,' Pax insisted, blinking back the hot prickle of tears that threatened to humiliate him further.

Kiyoshi smiled cruelly. 'Once perhaps, but Yoshi trained him well. The loyal mongrel to protect his only heir. Now he's one of them, and you're just one out of a sea of faces he's rescued over the years, which is why we need to be careful and do this the clever way. Not hold out for some teenage fantasy of happily ever after.'

The young ninja glared at him bitterly, utterly humiliated. 'Even if you're right - even if he'll never love me that way, I wanted to _protect_ Terra, not start a fight. This isn't right!' Pax yelled, backhanding the vial off the table. It clattered across the room but did not shatter.

Kiyoshi was unperturbed. 'Right, wrong. Empires rise and fall on a tide of murder and intrigue. Who is right and who was wrong is irrelevant, all that matters is who remains standing when the dust settles. Soon enough you'll learn this. Love comes and goes. A fleeting weakness to be exploited by one's enemies. _Power_ is the only thing worth holding onto. What you want is nothing more than a dream and it's time to grow up. If you do this right you'll be able to take what you want and nobody, not even Leonardo, will be able to stop you. Now enough of this pointless defiance. You know what you have to do.'

Pax slumped, defeated. 'It doesn't even matter. I insulted his honour - I may not even have my position anymore.'

Kiyoshi picked up the vial. 'You will. Leonardo thinks to keep an eye on me through you, which is why I've had you be so careful. Do what you can to repair things until another chance presents itself. Just keep your eyes open and your mouth shut. He doesn't have to like you, he just has to fuck you.'

Pax flinched, saying nothing, feeling heartsick and more confused than ever.

'You owe me far more than you'll ever owe him, Paxiron. Just think on that the next time you wish he'd look at you with those pretty golden eyes. He'll never willingly give you what you want. So. Get it done - even if you have to spike his drink. Sometimes the oldest tricks still work the best.'

Pax looked up in alarm. 'I thought it was too risky for an Alpha to ingest this - you said it might kill him. That's why we went to all this trouble in the first place!'

Kiyoshi pushed the vial into his hand, holding it there painfully until Pax was forced to take it. 'True, the potency is strongest when swallowed. Any Alpha would struggle against a dose this strong, but it's only truly dangerous to someone with Raphael's personal history. It's a regrettable risk and ultimately I'd prefer him alive but I'm running out of time. Our window of opportunity is limited.'

Pax stared at the vial in his hand. 'I don't want this, I don't want to hurt him,' he whispered.

Kiyoshi opened the door, looking back over one shoulder. 'Then find another solution. One way or the other we need Raphael Hamato out of the way. If he dies the problem is solved. If not we'll have the leverage we need.'

Pax looked away, clenching the vial in his trembling fist.

'And the slave? What happens if he gets in my way?'

'We may be able to use him. In the meantime keep your distance.'

'… Father.'

 


	6. Chapter 6

In the six years Leonardo had been leading his people there were some things that just never seemed to get any easier. The annual Clan Meeting was high on that list. There was no room for error, not when the outcome could affect the stability of the entire realm. The delegates were the far flung leaders of his people, representatives from the thirteen great Terrapin Clans travelled from their estates to share news, forge trade agreements, strengthen bonds and to pay homage to his leadership. It was an honour he would have willingly forgone. Ultimately they all wanted something from him - the game was not to give too little or too much. He followed his father Yoshi’s example, treating no clan with more or less favor than any other, maintaining a delicate balance between them all. It was a game he’d been born to play. Patience and diplomacy had always been among his strengths, but today restlessness crawled beneath a thin veneer of calm. 

Leo drew a slow, deep breath and settled his energy with effort. He had risen before dawn to meditate and it was early still, yet the noise in the grand hall was already swelling from quiet murmurs into an impatient buzz. Heavy screens of dark raw silk divided his audience space from the growing crowd except for one sheer fall of linen across the entrance, providing a shielded view of the milling nobles. The ladies circulated freely, exchanging greetings and news. The males acknowledged each other in more reserved fashion. Fabric and incense could not completely muffle the heavy tang of multiple alphas in various states of agitation. He could taste their muted aggression in the back of his throat, an acrid challenge that could be ignored but not without some difficulty. With Raph it was easier. They’d grown up together, knew each others moods to within a hair of violence and beyond. The same couldn’t be said for the other alpha patriarchs and for the next three days emotions would be held tightly in check. Generous provision of good food, light wines and entertainment would help soothe ruffled tempers, but none of them would be able to truly relax until they were back in their own territories. 

Poor weather had done nothing to improve the situation. The wet season was a yearly hazard but the rains had come early and caused heavy damage to a number of important bridges. Flooding had delayed this Clan Meeting three painful weeks. It was a logistical nightmare for the entire city as main access routes were torn apart by raging river water. Seven families had been forced to detour the long way up the river to find a crossing point shallow enough for horses and carriage. Those that had been waiting were impatient for things to begin, and those that had arrived late were tired and irritable from their journey. It made for a volatile atmosphere and Leo was more than ready to see the back of their shells.

Raph’s absence only added to his unease. A message had come by one cranky, bedraggled raven to say he’d been cut off by the same flooding. Even if the delay was justified the duration was unacceptable. Worrying about Raph’s penchant for trouble was an unwelcome distraction when there was already so much that demanded his attention. He took a moment to school his expression from a flat line of displeasure into something more neutral. The only real benefit to the situation was Raphael’s Right of Claim on Donatello. Flood damage had been so widespread that word had come from the Council; the right of arms to decide who ‘owned’ Donatello would be delayed until the roads were once again clear for travel. A courtesy afforded to the ‘relative’ of a Clan Leader. 

The turtle in question chose that moment to push through the rear entrance balancing a tray. Leo returned Don’s shy smile of greeting with real warmth. Don didn’t yet know how precarious his situation was and Leo intended to keep it that way as long as possible. 

‘Tea?’ The olive turtle asked, lifting his tray slightly. 

‘Please.’ Leo considered Don as he brewed the tea, careful to steep the unfurling blossoms to the exact moment the small sand timer indicated and not a moment longer. 

To say it had been an interesting month was an understatement. 

Donatello’s appetite for knowledge was the first thing he had come to understand. It wasn’t just curiosity, it was an insatiable need to know. As the olive turtle had gained confidence the questions had started to come hard and fast. How and why and everything in between. Leo had answered where he could and marvelled at just how much Don managed to observe and understand about the world around him in such a short time. 

Not just a font of questions, Leo was gratified to discover that subjects which generally drove Mike and Raph to glazed eyes and muffled yawns held Don fascinated for hours. He listened well and learned rapidly, making leaps in logic and intuition that had startled more than once. Twice the clan leader had found himself talking with Don long into the night, Mike snoring quietly among the cushions as they talked over steaming tea, the crickets singing a soft underscore as the lanterns flickered above. 

Their conversations were something he found rare in his world. Philosophy, history, general governance and strategy - even a little poetry. Nothing too personal and yet Leo felt the lighter for it. Don never asked for anything. More than that, he listened. Really listened, and Leo found himself talking more and more … just for himself and the pleasure of Don’s company. Without needing to guard from hidden agendas, veiled threats or simple things that might be used against him later. Perhaps that wasn’t so wise at this early stage but the temptation had been too difficult to resist. There was something about him, a lingering innocence that persisted despite all he’d been through. 

Perhaps most telling of all, Donatello had well and truly won Michelangelo over and Leo trusted that more than anything else. Over the last few days he had come to wonder if maybe he wasn’t the only one who needed someone to talk to. It’s not like they had many friends they could trust and so far as he could tell Don was honest, shy and caring and smarter than the entire thirteen put together. In nothing short of a stunning achievement, the olive turtle had managed to relearn the majority of his native language in less than a month. Perhaps some of it had remained deep in his memory but Leonardo didn’t think it diminished the scale of his accomplishment. Now he faced the difficulties that only time and practice could resolve. In short, his accent was horrible - tainted by the rough-and-ready Common he was used to. Yet it was smoother every day and he was driven to perfect it with a determination that Leo had rarely witnessed in anyone but himself. Perhaps therein lay one of the few faults of character the clan leader had been able to identify. More than once he’d come in late and quietly checked that Don was resting well, only to witness the olive turtle still awake, scrolls rustling as he poured over them, candles slumping into weary puddles in the pre-dawn hours. Leonardo had left him to his studies, instinctively aware that Don would not be soothed until he had filled the hole in his heart left by years of loneliness and isolation. 

Whether he would find what he really needed amidst the mountain of scrolls, was a question Leo kept to himself.

And so in the space of one short month, Don had found himself a new family and settled into his new life, unaware that Leo and Mike considered themselves just as lucky to have found something so rare. Someone they could trust. Perhaps even a friend. 

The Clan Leader smiled to himself. So much had changed in such a short time that he was fairly sure Raph was going to find it all a little terrifying. Served him right.

Leo offered his thanks as Don brought him his tea. The olive turtle paused beside him to look through the curtains.

‘It’s nothing like I imagined.’ He said softly, eyes huge.

Leo sipped his tea, watching Don’s face and trying not to laugh. ‘What were you expecting?’ 

Don glanced at him, a little embarrassed at his own ignorance. ‘I guess … a bunch of old men puffing away on pipes, arguing over treaties and land agreements.’ 

Leo fought the urge to scowl at that. ‘Not so many old men but there’ll be plenty of arguing later.’ 

Don snorted softly. ‘It’s hard to imagine anyone winning an argument with you.’

Leo offered him a dry smile. ‘Raph manages it every now and then, but he’s had far more practice.’ 

‘And Mikey?’ Don asked.

‘All the time but it doesn’t count - he cheats.’ Leo told him. 

Don laughed softly and turned back to watch the crowd as Leonardo tried to imagine what it must be like to see everything for the first time. These Terrapin represented the height of his people's society at one of the most important political and social events of the year. Every family had turned out in number, dressed to impress. 

Ladies with huge, lovely eyes wore delicate nets of faceted gems on their heads and carried ornately patterned fans. Their kimono were the finest quality, in patterns and colours that made each a work of art. The males among them were less ostentatious and somewhat overshadowed by the Alpha-patriarchs who were at least half a head taller than everyone else. Some towered over the crowd, lumbering giants with gnarled shells. Aside from the Thirteen Families and their retainers, there were almost as many court officials and a handful of envoys, swelling the crowd until it filled the great hall. It was an intimidating display of wealth and power, but Leo had grown up thinking nothing of such finery. 

‘Don’t be distracted by how they present themselves.’ Leo warned Don quietly. ‘Most of them have some kind of agenda and they’ll walk over anyone who gets in their way if they have to.’

Don pulled his gaze from the spectacle in surprise. ‘You don’t trust any of them? Not even the families that supported your father?’

Leo’s answer was honest even if his expression was carefully neutral. ‘I wish it were that simple, but I’d be a fool if I did.’

Don stepped back from the curtain, his dark eyes a little sad.

‘It can’t be easy never knowing who to trust - always wondering what people want from you.’ He said softly, uncertain how Leo would react to his words.

Leo fought the urge to frown. ‘I trust my family. Raph, Mikey. There are a few others and they’re all I need.’ Was Don pitying him? 

‘You’re worried about him. Your brother.’ The olive turtle observed quietly. It wasn’t a question and Leo sipped his tea to cover his discomfiture. Don knew he was approaching some unspoken lines and looked down at the tray in his hands, studying the carved jade teapot. ‘I would be if I were you. He’s been gone much longer than you expected and now there are all of these people in your home, trying to manipulate you, and he isn’t here to help.’ He shifted awkwardly. ‘I heard some of the guards talking this morning. They seem … uneasy, that he’s missing.’

Leo wasn’t surprised to hear it. What did surprise him was Don’s accurate analysis of the situation and how easily the olive turtle had just read him when so few could. 

The olive turtle shrugged awkwardly at Leo’s pensive silence and offered him an apologetic smile. ‘Not to mention Mikey’s been cursing under his breath for the last two weeks trying to meet the demands of all these lords. He said a few things that made me think it’s not usually his job.’

Leo grimaced ever so slightly. His lover had been on the verge of a major meltdown for the last two days and there was little he’d been able to do about it. With an army of servants and artisans at his command Michelangelo’s role was crucial to keeping everyone relaxed and organised. He had a talent for bringing out the best in people and a knack for knowing when to shift the atmosphere with music or other entertainments. It was a job he excelled at, and enjoyed, for the most part, yet even he had his limits. Trying to keep half a dozen irritable, arrogant ‘fatheads’ in line for an additional two weeks on top of his other duties had been wearing down Mike’s naturally buoyant personality. 

‘Raph has his own special way of keeping things running smoothly. Mike tries to be more accommodating and suffers for it. But yes, I’d prefer it if he was here, for multiple reasons. We won't have to wait much longer though. A raven came early this morning - Raph should be back within the next few hours.’ He answered finally. 

Leo tasted Don’s anxiety in the back of his throat and put a hand on the smaller turtle’s shoulder.

‘There’s nothing to fear, Don. You can trust him.’

Donatello nodded but didn’t smile. ‘I’m sorry. You and Mike keep saying it and I want to believe it … I’m just nervous.’ 

Leo understood. Ultimately trust had to be earned.

The smile Don flashed Leo was a fragile lie. ‘I’d better go. You’ve got things to do and the servers are going out soon.’

Leo gave Don his cup. ‘Be careful out there. I’m only allowing this because the nobles don’t know who you are yet. When they realise you’re in Bondage to Raphael this kind of exposure will be far too dangerous. At least until you’ve had some training.’

Don took a breath. ‘I know, but I want to see what they’re like while I can. Besides - it’s only serving drinks and listening. If I can’t even do this much what good am I to you?’

Leo gazed at him with unfathomable eyes. ‘This isn’t a test, Don.’

Donatello nodded again and this time the smile was more genuine. ‘I know, but I can’t hide forever. Besides, you and Mike have been so stressed out with this. I want to help. Maybe I’ll hear something useful - at the very least I can try.’

Leo watched him for a long moment concerned that this was too much too soon, but if he interfered now he’d be overriding the first assertive request Don had made since his decision to stay. Leo wasn’t going to take away the little self-confidence he’d gained by overruling it. 

‘Stay close to Mikey.’ He said softly. 

Don drew a relieved breath and nodded, then gathered up his tray and left.

Leo didn’t have time to ponder their conversation. A moment of quiet composure and the mask was once more in place. A steadying breath, the shimmer of the morning gong rippling the curtains like a warm breath and he stepped forward into the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So,
> 
> I do sincerely apologise for how long this update was in coming. To be frank, I had some serious health problems and it's taken me a while to get back on my feet. In the last six months I've also started my own small business - so the last couple of years have been really challenging on multiple levels. I've overcome a great deal to get to this point and I'm finally able to start writing again. It feels really good to get back into it. Not once have I ever considered abandoning this story but I had to wait until I was healed enough to even feel like writing, so thanks for everyone's patience who still follows this. I hope it's worth the wait. =)
> 
> As a side note - From now on I'll be updating with smaller chapters. I used to update with three sections per chapter but it takes too long to write that much (10k per chap). So now I'll be posting (hopefully) more often, but one section per post, if you get my meaning.
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who has supported me by commenting and giving kudos. I really appreciate it! 
> 
> <3 Skan


	7. Chapter 7

Mike had left Don under the direction of the kitchen overseer, whose quick tongue and sharp eyes seemed barely enough to keep a battalion of excited servants organised. Don blended amongst them, barely noticed in the rush as the entire crew split into orderly lines and queued to collect the morning's offerings. Don passed delicate jugs of pale juices, a bewildering selection of teas and took one containing small servings of fruit and nuts, following the others out into the milling crowd with a steadying breath. 

It was a surreal experience - something he figured he should be used to by now. The Clan Meeting took extravagance to a whole new level and it was hard not to stare as he threaded his way through the crowd, pausing occasionally when someone reached for his tray. Most of the hands that swept under Don’s nose were soft with perfectly manicured nails, some painted with shining gold leaf. Some had so many jewels crusting their fingers, their hands looked like small flower gardens, others had modified kimonos designed to show off shells polished to an almost translucent finish, gleaming like dark jade or the surface of a deep pond. The extravagance nagged at him until he realised that Leonardo never wore such jewellery. It would look out of place on hands that spent most of their spare time wielding a sword, calloused and lined with the scars from old battles. Don had come to understand that Leonardo was a turtle of simplicity. Even at this incredibly important event he was in minimal formal attire and by comparison the nobles seemed almost gaudy. Deeper into the crowd and new details distracted him. 

Don kept moving, feeling dazzled as he refilled his tray with wine and walked back through the hall. The day passed and his wonder began to fade to something vaguely uneasy. The reason struck him as he lifted his jug to fill the glass of a particularly impressive young lord. The Terran barely looked at him, his gaze flickering amongst the surrounding guests, a line of nervous sweat running down his neck, and Don knew. Their silks were like armour. The jewels and makeup like warpaint, and he was walking another kind of battlefield where the machinations were more subtle and the stakes were measured in riches and prestige. The young Lord moved away and Don re-focused his attention on the conversations around him. 

It wasn’t as easy as he’d expected. Though he’d mastered the grammatical structure, it all ran together when the speech was too rapid or the accents unusual. Leonardo spoke very clearly and while Mikey was generally talking at least twice as fast as everyone else, he was still easier to understand than most of the people around Don now. Their accents were as varied as their clan crests, some so heavy it took him a moment to decipher if they were even speaking the same language. Gradually his mind began to bend around the strange pronunciations and he began to pick up bits and pieces. Most of the chatter was on the same level he’d heard around the castle on a grander scale. Gossip about who was desirable and who wasn’t - whose prospects were best and which families were the most impressive this season. Who wanted to marry who. Farming and raids and various items of trade were mentioned. The flooding had everyone grumbling about repairs and damage. 

After a while, Don began to understand Leonardo’s dubious reaction when he'd requested to do this. The nobles ate, drank and talked business and none of it was any more inappropriate than mild bitching about potential rivals and the occasional tense standoff between two Alphas on different sides of an issue. Not even Leo’s gravest enemies would dare anything more, not here in the seat of the Hamato Clan’s power where the young leader's strength was on full display. Guards in gleaming mail were stationed around the hall discretely ready for any trouble, and then there were the whispers Don had heard amongst the servants - of those who served from the shadows, the eyes and ears of the Terran forces. Shadow warriors. Don had seen one for himself and knew there was more to it than just whispers. He turned and froze, a small chill thrilling up his spine.

The ninja in question was standing to one side of the crowd looking restless. Out of black leathers and not a weapon in sight, Don could actually see how young he really was - barely seventeen and dressed like a Prince. 

Paxiron. Here in his role as Heir to the Takashiru's.

Don changed his path slightly in order to observe him without being spotted. The boy left him feeling uneasy. Not that Pax had tried to talk to him, but every time Don turned around he seemed to be there somewhere in the background. 

Now the olive turtle frowned, wondering why the teenager looked so unhappy.

The crowd fell silent and turned as one as a small gong struck and Leonardo reappeared, inclining his head as the family he’d been meeting privately bowed respectfully and moved to rejoin the crowd. Don didn’t know how Leonardo stood it - his schedule was intense. The greater crowd would spend two days mingling and visiting with each other while Leonardo met with each family that had petitioned for his time in a private audience. Predictably, none of them wanted to seem less important than any of the others and so they all petitioned for an audience every single meeting and found reasons to justify his time. Typically they all looked pleased when they emerged, as if they’d gained some secret edge over the others with their young leader. If they looked smug enough there would be a ripple of curious bitchiness from the crowd. Leonardo seemed to bear it patiently, no flicker of boredom or frustration to ruffle his composure, and Don couldn't help but admire him for it. Later the Alphas would gather for an extended council meeting where Leo would mediate their disputes.

When Leonardo declined to see the next family Don wondered for a moment what was going on. Michelangelo went to stand behind him almost bouncing on his toes in agitation and a soft ripple of inquiry stirred the silence of the crowd. There was a sense of expectation. From his position in the hall Don saw every guard straighten subtly, heard Mike’s crow of joy and glimpsed the flicker of relief cross Leonardo’s face. 

Don’s heart was suddenly pounding. It was a moment he'd been dreading for weeks now ... 

Raphael might have been dressed like a simple soldier in a combination of brown leathers and a black cloak, but nobody could mistake him for anything so mundane. 

What he was thinking Don couldn’t tell, but the emerald Terran moved through the nobles like he didn’t give a damn. As if the floor was his and anyone on it, merely tolerated. 

Perhaps they sensed it was true for they moved back from him, clearing a path as he strode through the crowd. He made no effort at formality and seemed unbothered when none of them attempted to greet him. They simply moved out of his way and anyone who didn’t move fast enough suffered the misfortune of having that fierce gaze turned on them and the indignity of having to scramble out of the way. 

By the time the emerald Terran was standing before his leader it was clear there was only one person in Terra that Raphael Hamato bowed to. He did so then, bending a knee to salute in a swirl of road dust.

‘Brother.’ Raphael greeted Leo shortly. 

'You're late.' Leonardo told him simply. Raphael stood and moved to his side as the conversation in the room began to rise to the low rolling mutter of before, but this time Don could taste a change. A conflicting mix of curious derision, fear, hostility, admiration and ... the underlying scent of lust. 

Leo gave Raph a quiet word and the emerald turtle muttered something in return, turned and left the room. Half a dozen guards peeled off to follow him, almost running to catch up and Don blinked and remembered to breathe again.

Someone tittered nearby. ‘And Leonardo’s lapdog is back.’

Don spotted a young turtle in a bright blue kimono smirking behind her delicate fan, a small group of friends clustered around her. 

‘Don’t call him that, Azami. Not here.’ Someone replied uneasily.

She shrugged delicately. ‘He may be nothing more than a glorified servant, but he does his job well I’ll give him that.’ She gave them a cheeky smile. ‘Besides, if he wasn’t so common he could grind my shell anyday.’ There was an explosion of shocked laughter at her crude insinuation and a few made sounds of agreement or scorn depending on their preference. Don flushed uncomfortably on Raphael’s behalf. Common? Raphael was anything but that. 

‘If you ever fuck him I’ll kill you.’ Someone murmured.

Don jumped and spun in shock, tray rattling. ‘What?!’

Paxiron was standing there looking bored, his eyes cool. ‘I said, you’re a sitting duck. Are you stupid? Don’t stand there eavesdropping like a complete amateur.’ The teenager told him flatly.

It was a poor cover and Don was acutely aware that was _not_ what Pax had just said to him. 

‘Lord Tagatsu is out on the terrace. You should go check that he doesn't want anything.’ Pax told him dismissively.

Don nodded uneasily and moved away. The request was reasonable even if the teenagers open hostility left him wary. He doubted the threat was serious but Don knew jealousy when he heard it, so what kind of relationship did the teenager have with Raphael for him to act so possessive? Mike said it was nothing more than a crush that Raphael had no intention of indulging. Clearly Pax hadn’t given up on something happening between them.

Don set that aside and stepped out onto the wooden decking, his heart still bounding in his chest. Raphael was finally home and there was so much he’d planned to say - except Pax had managed to destroy what nerve he’d gathered and his pre-prepared speech was in fragments. He attempted to put it back together as he located the middle-aged Alpha along the decking. 

However, Lord Tagatsu didn’t need any more wine. The intensity of his breath suggested he’d had far too much already and the rough way he fumbled at Don’s tray confirmed it. A jug went over, drenching Don in stinking alcohol and hitting the deck without breaking. Don bent down to pick up the fallen ceramic only to freeze as a heavy hand stroked lovingly down his shell to linger suggestively at his ass. 

‘Your behind is quite the most exquisite thing I’ve seen since I got here.’ The Lord murmured appreciatively. 

Don straightened so fast that what remained on his tray went sailing into the bushes, cups and all. Tagatsu crowded him against the railing, his grip tightening around Don’s arm when he made to leave.

‘What’s your hurry? Keep me company for a while.’ The Alpha cajoled sweetly. His scent invaded Don’s nose, threaded with lust and alcohol and something _other_ that made his head spin sickeningly.

‘Let me go.’ Don gritted somewhere between shock and burgeoning panic.

‘I’m not going to hurt you my pretty one. Come back to my rooms for a while. I can be so generous when I’m in the mood.’ The Alpha slurred throatily into the hollow of Don’s neck. ‘Nobody will miss you for a few hours.’

Something hot and wet slid over his pulse and Don gagged, shoved at his offender and managed to jerk free. He took half a dozen steps towards freedom stuttering horrified excuses, turned and smacked straight into a solid wall of Terran hard enough for his vision to flash white. Landing with a painful thud as his tray clattered to the ground, completed the awful spectacle.

‘The hell is going on here?’ Raphael demanded with dark suspicion, staring down at Don and then back up at his assailant.

Don blinked up at him in shock, his hand over his bruised snout. Raphael had changed into formal attire, the black robe and red dragons Don had glimpsed weeks ago, and if he’d seemed arrogant in his travelling gear there was something supremely intimidating about him now, framed in raw silk, radiating a dangerous intensity.

‘Excuse me, My Lord. I was just about to go back inside. Stepped out for some air and well - you know how it is when the saki hits harder than you expected.’ Tagatsu rambled nervously, inching around the larger alpha. It was almost comical. ‘It’s good to see you returned safely after your extended trip-.’

Raphael grabbed the man’s wrist tightly and the Alpha yelped and froze. ‘You’ve been warned before - you know the rules.’ The emerald Terran growled softly. ‘I catch you breakin’ them again, you’ll be going home on a stretcher and I’ll make sure the entire gathering knows why.’ 

Tagatsu clearly believed him because he jerked his arm free with careful, drunken dignity and walked unsteadily back into the crowded hall without saying a word. 

Raphael gave a tense sigh and looked back at Don in concern. ‘You okay?’

Golden eyes met his and Don promptly forgot every word of Terran he’d learned in the last month. He’d forgotten just how intense they were. A shock went through him, tingling right down to his toes. Raphael was studying him in concern now. An answer was clearly required - he had to say something but for the first time in three weeks his mind had gone completely blank and all the came out was an intelligible stutter. 

‘Did he hurt you?’ Raphael demanded, reaching down to take hold of Don’s arms and pull him firmly to his feet. His gaze fell to the glint of silver at Don’s throat and his symbol there before returning to study Don’s face in dawning realisation.

‘Donnie! There you are! I was worried.’ Michelangelo came bounding over as Raphael blinked in surprise and released Donatello. 

‘Donnie?’ He muttered in disbelief as Mike tugged at Don’s soiled clothes in dismay. ‘Seriously? Little Don?’ 

Mike looked up at him smugly. ‘I knew you wouldn’t recognise him.’ 

Raphael made a soft sound of approval, studying Don in appreciation. ‘You did good, Mikey. He looks a hell of alot better than when I left. I barely recognise his scent - ‘

Mike abruptly scooped up Don’s fallen tray and slapped it firmly to Raphael’s plastron, interrupting him. The Alpha took it with a frown. ‘He’s also got his Terran nailed already, so yeah.’ He drawled pointedly.

Raph looked at Don in surprise. ‘What, already? He can’t have picked up too much yet.’

‘Apparently I’m a fast learner.’ Don said to him, groping after his words with a nervous smile.

The alpha’s brow dropped, a suspicious shadow falling over those brilliant eyes. ‘And speakin’ it too? How come you didn’t say anything before?’ He demanded skeptically, drawing himself up in a way that had Mike bristling.

Don found himself standing very still, pinned in place by that sharp expression as Mike stepped in front of him, slapping a hand against Raphael’s chest.

‘I’ll explain later, Raph. Just relax - it’s okay!’ Mike insisted. When Raphael didn’t move Mike gave him an impatient shove and the Alpha finally tore his gaze from Don to look down at him. 

‘He’s not a spy.’ Mike was adamant.

Don couldn’t blame Raphael for being wary with what little he knew of their history. No less than five previous assassination attempts had been made since Leonardo had inherited his father’s rule. A reasonable amount of paranoia was to be expected. He gathered his words carefully.

‘I’m sorry, but you startled me and for a moment I couldn’t remember what to say.’ He said clearly, aware that his pronunciation was still off but confident he had most of it right. 

Raphael hesitated.

‘It’s true.’ Someone called softly.

Don and Mike turned to see Paxiron stepping out of the shadows a short distance away, his expression solemn. 

‘He spends most of his free time in the archives and the scholars say he learns faster than anyone they've ever met.’ He told the Alpha, saluting respectfully. 

Don felt a dark chill run down his spine at the quiet statement - evidence that Pax had been watching him. Dots were connecting quickly in his mind because Tagatsu had a reputation for being inappropriate or Raphael would not have reacted as he had. Which meant Pax had sent him out here deliberately, knowing he would probably be molested, drunk as Tagatsu had been. Had he been standing back there watching in the dark this whole time, waiting to see what would happen? How far would he have let things go if Don hadn’t been able to free himself and Raphael not shown up? And now he was standing here pretending to be on Don’s side? 

Raphael barely acknowledged Paxiron’s statement and so missed the flicker of anxious adoration on the teenagers face. For the first time since his arrival, Don felt a flush of real anger. He had no idea why the ninja had just defended him but this was important and he had no intention of letting petty mind games define the start of his relationship with Raphael. For weeks he’d been painfully anxious about meeting this Terran again, worried the Alpha might decide he’d made a mistake. Scared of being reminded of the bloody day they’d met and the memories that still made his hands shake. Suddenly the fear and anxiety that had been sitting in his guts for the last week galvanised into something that made his back straighten. 

He met the Alphas gaze earnestly. ‘The archives are a big help. I’m still learning, but Michelangelo is a good teacher and a good friend.’ 

‘Damn straight!’ Mikey snapped, turning an evil look on Raph. ‘Some of us actually do our jobs you know - I hope you realise just how big you owe me for the last few weeks of drama, Raph. Bullying these old relics into line is supposed to be your job, not mine!’

Raphael seemed to come to a decision, the dangerous vibe around him fading as he grimaced in acknowledgment of the debt. ‘Yeah, yeah. You know I’m good for it.’ He grumbled, glancing curiously at Don.

Mike took Don’s arm, resolute. ‘You’d better be. Now. We’re finally through all the boring stuff so can we please get to the dancing and the feasting? Unlike some people around here I’ve earned a bit of R and R.’

Raphael glowered at him but even Don could tell he wasn’t truly angry. On the other hand, Mike’s biting sarcasm was a warning sign none of them was inclined to ignore. The Alpha finally shrugged and looked Don up and down in a more neutral manner. ‘You might want to get a change of clothes first. You’re supposed to drink the wine, not wear it.’ He told Don bluntly.

Don was saved from having to respond to that as Mike tugged him along, in a hurry to get back to the festivities he’d worked so hard to organise. 

‘We’ll show you drinking! Meet you inside.’ Mike told him impatiently and Don could only follow to avoid tripping as Raphael let them go with an amused snort, spinning the tray absently in his large hands. But beyond him … Pax’s dark stare which contained nothing so simple as teenage jealousy.

Why would Pax set him up only to then come to his defence later? He considered asking Mikey but he knew the small turtle desperately needed to relax tonight. Maybe he could ask Leonardo about it later. 

Don decided to bide his time. He had underestimated the young ninja’s resentment, but now it was clear even if the motivations weren’t. 

Don had an enemy.


End file.
